#that post on the history of this song said that they're dead but they're not
Text
Fic Finder
March 15th
~*~
1. Looking for a post 1st seige burial mounds fic on ao3. It was a wip but it's been awhile so may no longer be the case. In it jc only participated in the siege as a cover to get close enough to his brother w/out endangering lotus pier. Since he leads the charge he finds wwx first and when wwx passes out after destroying the seal jc fakes wwx's death and smuggle him back to lotus pier & hides/kinda imprison him. But the longer they're together the more jc realizes a lot of the things he blamed wwx for aren't adding up (seeing through Jin manipulations).
Jc also forgot/didn't know about ayuan so when wwx wakes up he freaks out about where his baby adopted son is, but by the time jc gets back to bm yuan is no where to be found (implied lz had already got him) but jc and wwx think this means yuan is dead. Wwx is very depressed and becomes Jin ling's secret nanny whenever the kid is at lotus pier. In the most recent updates (at the time) a baby xue yang was introduced.
He saw a disguised wwx in a hidden area by lotus pier playing in the water and is basically like 'I'm cute and small too' and plots how to get himself adopted so he can also be pampered like the wealthy kid. I think there were some alternating povs. Might of been a Lan pov too, creating dramatic irony since both yuan and wwx are alive but neither side knows? Was setting up yunmeng bro reconciliation.
~*~
2. I'm looking for a specific fic, it was modern, WWX took LWJ to a concert of post modern, like synth? Chinese music and I think NHS told WWX about it?? It had some good song recs and I'm mainly looking for the the songs- if you guys could help me out? Thank you!!!! @recombinantdna
NOT FOUND! The Quiet Room by trickybonmot (M, 39k, WangXian, Modern AU, 1990s, Goth LWJ, Cellist LWJ, College Student WWX, House Hunting, Dating, Clubbing, San Francisco, Implied/Referenced Past Child Abuse, Mental Health Issues, Academic Disaster Aftermath, Getting Together, Repressed Teen Crushes to Strangers to Lovers, Homelessness, in the form of couch surfing, background NieLan) in which WWX finds LWJ being a DJ in a goth club in the 90s and it talks a lot about music. NHS is totally an enabler.
FOUND! show me a quiver, give me tonight by spookykingdomstarlight (E, 115k, wangxian, lwj/others, communication failure, mutual pining, artists, demisexual wwx, angst w/ happy ending) WY surprised LZ by bringing him to a performance of an artist LZ likes, H i d d e n f r a g r a n c e who plays electronic guqin. The sample songs can be found in the author notes in Chapter 10
~*~
3. hi! im looking for a fic and the only thing i remember from it was wangxian (canon divergence, maybe arranged marriage but im not sure) in maybe caiyi?? sitting down at a noodle place, and there was a thing about how wwx loved the gusu dialect and kept pestering lwj to say something in the dialect, and he knew enough of the dialect to flirt or haggle so when lwj said an endearment term (i think it was something like sweetheart?) he froze and got all panicky about wwx recognising the word because he froze too, but then wwx just asks if he swore?? THANK YOU SO MUCH IF YOU FIND IT ive been combing my bookmarks and history for almost weeks now and im so close to thinking i made it all up
FOUND? Your Hand in Mine by cerbykerby (T, 20k, WangXian, Humor, Comedy, Pining, cursed to hold hands, Light Angst, Sharing a Bed, First Dates, Embarrassment, Fluff, bathing together, wwx is a menace to society, and lwj Suffers A Lot, Canon Compliant)
FOUND? Fentao-laoshi’s Guide to Cut-Sleeve Pleasures by occultings (microcomets) (E, 31k, wangxian, canon divergence, pining while fucking, friends with benefits, first time, cloud recesses study arc, practice kissing, sharing a bed, jealousy, getting together, confessions, happy ending)
~*~
4. For fic finder: I have lost a modern-au fic where Lan Zhan is in the hospital, in a children’s wing, and Wei Wuxian visits a lot/volunteers there. Wei Wuxian has prosthetic legs and he gets a new red pair around the point I lost the fic. I am pretty sure I found the rec through this blog but I can’t find it again TT Help please!
FOUND? 🔒 some things go forward by everythingispoetry (T, 73k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hospitals, Teenage Drama, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Happy Ending)
~*~
5. First, thank you for everything that you do ! Your posts and recommendations and "I'm in the mood for" collections have kept my heart and soul busy for years now! I am honestly in awe of all the hard work and time you dedicate to both pages! 🥰
Unfortunately I don't remember much of the summary of the fic I'm searching for, but I wanted to try my luck. 🙈 It was a light modern dom/sub fic where WY accidentally sort of turned LZ into a sub. I think by giving him indirect orders all the time? And nobody noticed until WQ pointed it out? I searched through Ao3 with the light dom/sub tag for ages and then eventually gave up.
Maybe it rings a bell for you? 🙏🤞❤️ @papperlapapp1
FOUND? And They Were Roommates! or The Accidental Domming of Lan Wangji by DizziDreams (E, 21k, wangxian, Dom WWX, Sub LWJ, inexperienced BDSM practices, un-/under- negotiated kink, horny climbing, horny cohabitation, horny on main except by main I mean at a party surrounded by innocent bystanders, Praise Kink, Masturbation, Bondage, Lingerie, Orgasm Delay/Denial, omg they were roommates, Modern, BDSM, debatably a bit of dom drop, Public Masturbation, Edging, Getting Together, WQ has to come in and straighten this shit out)
~*~
6. Okay so looking for a fic where lwj or wwx accidentally summon incubus/succubus wwx or lwj. (I can't remember who was the sex demon or who was the human but it is a wangxian fic)
So, the succubus needs food and it is, unsurprisingly, cum. As in they have to literally eat cum to survive. So the human is followed by this succubus/incubus everywhere they go to including his university.
The human does love feeding the sex demon and even lets him feed in the uni bathroom during breaks.
Does a fic like this exist? Does it ring any bell?
FOUND? An Array of Good Decisions by celerydragon (E, 11k, WangXian, Demon Sex Size Kink, Size Difference, Consensual Non-Consent, dubcon, Tongue Sex, Omegaverse, Humiliation, Mild Breeding Kink)
FOUND? Lan Wangji's Fullproof Guide on How (NOT) to Summon a Demon by fardimensions (E, 3k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Porn With Plot, but not a lot of plot, Incubus WWX, Demons, wwx has a tail, Wings, Interspecies Sex, Bottom LWJ/Top WWX, Anal Sex, Crack, Filthy, size queen LWJ)
~*~
7. for the fic finder: it's a fic (dom/sub canon au?) where wei wuxian gave lan wangji a collar before he died. lan wangji keeps the collar for as long as he can but eventually the leather is too old and it breaks. there's a bunch of sadness but all is well when wei wuxian resurrects.
thank you for all you do!!
FOUND? Breathe Again by Sheehan_sidhe (E, 4k, wangxian, Grief/Mourning, Depression, Breathplay, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, POV LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, Submissive LWJ, Crying LWJ, Grieving LWJ, Collars, Angst with an Eventual Happy Ending)
~*~
8. for fic finder: my heart tells me it was a modern/modern with cultivation au, but my searches have been fruitless. i just remember our beloved wangxian dancing around each other, and the juniors being there with a similar problem. specifically, jin ling being tested at archery, and sizhui Totally Only There For Emotional Support And No Other Reason.
FOUND? with you, I am home by tellthemstories (M, 47k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, fake dating for reasons, Meeting the Family, There Was Only One Bed, Casual Domesticity, wwx is oblivious in more ways than one, 'this fic is like emotional edging', this comment sums up the entire fic)
~*~
9. heyI've been looking for a fic for a while.WWX and LWJ were in the turtle's cave of slaughter... they had no energy to fight and decided to do double cultivation.
When it comes to the part where WWX donates the golden core to JC.... during the surgery, WQ discovers WWX is pregnant, the double cultivation generated a uterus.
He is still captured by the Wen clan and thrown into the grave hill.He believes he lost the baby because of this and uses his resentful energy to survive and get revenge.
When he reaches the part at the end of the campaign where the sun falls, he goes into labor without knowing that he is still pregnant.
It's not Omegaverse.
Sorry if my writing is bad, english is not my first language @crazy-tai
FOUND? Impermanence, Transience, Permanence by Best Bepsy (BepsyGray) (E, 39k, wangxian, canon divergence, unplanned pregnancy, mpreg, gore, sunshot campaign, assumed miscarriage, medical procedures, childbirth, golden core reveal)
~*~
10. Hello! I was wondering if anyone here knew of a fic that took place during the Wen Indoctrination? If I remember right, it was only one chapter, set mostly in the Untamed universe because Wei Wuxian and Wen Ning had worked together to make it seem like he was dead for the Wens after being locked in with that dog, but he was grabbed too early and basically paraded in front of the other disciples under the belief that he was dead. If anyone else has seen this fic, I'd be extremely grateful!
FOUND!🔒💖 the universe would turn to a mighty stranger by RavenclawLoki (T, 11k, wangxian, Angst, Eventual Fluff, Some mentions of blood, it looks like someone is dead but!!, it is okay, everything is going to be okay i promise, First Kiss, Canon Divergence, Wwx and lwj know they're in love, They just don't know the other loves them back, Everyone Lives AU, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ)
~*~
11. For your next fic finder, I'm looking for a modern wangxian dating reality tv au. It's omegaverse and in the first half of the show, everyone is paired up, but in the second half of the show, it's wilderness survival with the alphas trying to catch the omegas. Wwx is a career omega who is trying to get a cash prize instead of an alpha. @leahlisabeth
FOUND? 🧡 shoot your shot – hot or knot by defractum (nyargles) (E, 51k, WangXian, Modern AU, A/B/O Dynamics, Reality Show, Hunger Games Setting, Canon-Typical Violence, Extremely Dubious Consent, Getting Together, Happy Ending, Humor, Additional Warnings In Author’s Notes)
~*~
12. Guys I need help finding this story. So it’s about Wei ying being hit by this memory yao. And he is in pain. So lan zhan, lan yuan, lan qiren, lan huan, Jin rulan, and jiang cheng. They use this spell to take Wei ying bad memories. They hold onto this bad memories because they don’t want Wei ying to go through all of that and remember. Ofc they are traumatized but they love him, etc. sooo please if you know the name write in comments. I have been looking for it for DAYS @zodime101
FOUND? Window of the Waking Mind by mrcformoso (M, 8k, wangxian, LSZ & WWX, JC & WWX, Graphic depictions of violence, Major Character Death, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Torture, Golden Core Transfer, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Hurt WWX, WWX Needs a Hug, WWX Needs a Break, Flashbacks, Curses, Night Hunts, Suicide, Starvation, Canonical Child Abuse, Canonical Character Death, Cannibalism, Although it was forced by the situation to survive, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, lots of comfort, Soft LQR, Learning To Communicate, Zidian Spiritual Tool, JC Tries, Reaction)
~*~
13. hi! for the next fic finder — it was sizhui centered! him being raised by lwj but also wwx, but wwx is a ghost. and wwx has no recollection of his death and there was this one scene where he curls up around ayuans body and falls asleep and he wakes in the cloud recesses and i think he thinks he's being ignored? and then there was the whole realizing he was a ghost thing. and also lwj burying his body at the bm. pls help me T^T its Not "the dark doesnt frighten me, its mine" btw!
NOT FOUND! the moon, grown full by Deinde (T, 22k, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Spirits, Identity Reveal, discussion of war crimes, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Homecoming, reclaiming your name and identity, Names, Families of Choice)
FOUND! The Intervening Years by rosemu (G, 11k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, LSZ centric, Parent-Child Relationship, Wangxian is background, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort)
~*~
14. Hi! For fic finder: I am looking for a canon-era fic where cultivators have golden blood and regular people have red blood. When Wei Wuxian loses his core his blood fades to red, which means he has to work harder to hide his wounds or they will give away his core-less state. I particularly remember the scene where Jiang Cheng stabs him in their “mock” fight WWX hides his wound with a cloak. He takes to covering up his body fully from head to toe to avoid showing any scrapes. Then after he is revived and Jiang Cheng whips him he purposefully shows the red blood to “prove” he isn’t WWX, then I think the core reveal happens when Jin Ling stabs him and everyone knows its him and they see the red blood too. Thank you!!
~*~
15. I need help finding a fic, I didn’t get too far into it but I really want to finish it. I think it was a longer fic and I think it’s well known and/or already in a comp or itmf answer. I i remember is that the summary put wwx as a temporary head of the Jiang Clan, from the first few chapters I think he’s tricked/strong armed into this position by JC. He had some Buisness at koi tower or a conference that would take a while so he needed a filler and wanted WWX. I think it’s post-cannon and it had someone insulting WWX in the summary and something along the lines of a statement of spite and a declaration to prove said person wrong.
This is likely a terrible description but it’s all I have. I know I got the og link from this site so someone should recognize it… Help would be greatly appreciated.
FOUND? Twelve Moons and a Fortnight by stiltonbasket (M, 290k, WangXian, Humor, Slow Burn, Post-Canon Fix-It, Long-Distance Relationship, Epistolary, Love Letters, Family Feels, a-qing lives, teenage romance, Adoption, Romantic Comedy, Happy Ending, Weddings, Case Fic, Parenthood, Politics)
~*~
16. Hello! For the next fic finder I have two fics:
A) the only thing I remember about this fic is that it deals with the "do not speak with Wei Ying" rule. Lan Wangji was really angry when he found out and was about to go yell at his uncle, but Wei Wuxian kept trying to stop him. I remember Wwx threw himself into a pond or down a hill or something to snap Lwj out of it? I don't remember anything else about the fic unfortunately.
B) vampire au where Wwx was a vampire and the lans hunted the supernatural I think? Wangxian had to work together to stop some evil thing. I remember Wwx's backstory was something like: Wen Chao captured him and locked him in a room with a vampire, thinking it would result in Wwx dying (cultivators couldn't be turned into vampires, they would just die). But Wwx had given up his core so he got turned and Wen Chao locked him in a house with Wen Ning. There was a fire and Wwx turned Wen Ning to save his life. I also remember a scene where Wwx tried to go into Cloud Recesses, but the wards wouldn't let him. He thought this meant Lwj wanted nothing to do with him, but it was just Lan Xichen updating the wards or something.
Thank you!
16A)
FOUND?🔒Scenes From Three Winters by LtLJ (G, 12k, wangxian, post-canon, romance, family feels, family issues, family drama, PTSD, body horror, bad parent LQR, happy ending) Wei Ying throwing himself in a pond and down a hill to snap LWJ out of anger at his uncle sounds a lot like what happens at the end of Scenes from Three Winters by LtLJ but it's not specifically the 'do not speak to Wei Ying' rule that's the problem (will probably need to read other fics in the series for context)
16B)
FOUND?🔒hear the monsters calling home by sundiscus (M, 8k, wangxian, Modern Cultivation, Vampires, Misunderstandings, Angst with a Happy Ending, blood drinking (romantic))
FOUND? And you must keep your soul/ Like a secret in your throat by athena_crikey (E, 48k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Vampire WWX, Cultivator LWJ, Case Fic, h/c Angst, Falling In Love, First Time, Reference to Torture)
~*~
17. Hi!! for the next fic finder, I was hoping of you guys could help me find a fic where it takes place in post canon: lwj cultivates to immortality even though he didn’t want to be and wwx tried hard to catch up to him but later on passes away bc he was never able to. Lwj was so devastated and during wwx’s funeral, jc came to pay respects and lwj found out that jc has also become an immortal. lwj says something along the lines of “how dare you cultivate to immortality with his core?” it might be a reincarnation fic but that’s about all i can remember from it. Thank you so much! @makkachiin
FOUND!🔒Closer Than Eternity by Netrixie (T, 26k, WangXian, Modern AU, Reincarnation, an unhealthy addiction to starbucks, Immortals, Self-Doubt, POV Alternating, Minor Original Character(s), Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Temporary Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending, not for jc fans, This is not a reconciliation fic) The scene at WY's funeral is in Chapter 3.
~*~
18. Hi! I hope my request will be clear, since English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance. I really want to read it, but I can't find a fic in which Lan Sizhui dies on a night hunt, saving the distracted Lan Zhan and Wei Ying. I don't remember many details, but I remember how the grief of A-Yuan's family and friends was described, and then A-Yuan was reborn. The fic was on ao3. @amelliss
FOUND? Setting Of The Sun by heartsdesire456 (M, 8k, WangXian , Character Death, Or Is It?, Grief/Mourning, Child Loss, Heavy Angst) i don't think it's reincarnation but this sounds similar to
FOUND? Our Son Reborn by RenaFair (T, 103k, WangXian, Mpreg, Deities, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Slow Build, There's smut, Rollercoaster of Emotions, baby a-yuan)
~*~
19. hi, I’m look for a fic from ao3, I can’t really remember the plot but the end was wwx absorbing the tiger seal and in the process made a SILVER core. It happened in the burial mound (I think after the seal was stolen in Lanling but that might be a different fic)the timeline was before wwx’s first death because wen Qing was still alive @teasong
FOUND? ❤️ kick at the darkness 'til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst)
~*~
20. Hello! I am looking for Wangxian fanfiction where Wei Ying and Lan Zhan are lovers before Demonic cultivation and Wei Ying hurt Lan Zhan as in canon later the reunite after 13 years or something like that @abz18699-blog
~*~
105 notes
·
View notes
Text
Greetings citizens of the Union and beings from beyond! Welcome to Union News Central, I'm your host Bluglakkag Flublabbak. Hello! This is the recent news! ::3
The New Libertopia Cultural Fair has begun! Culture is something that's been lacking in the Union, as the Replicants had very little and the uplifted species of the Union had nothing. That being said, the exposure to so many alien cultures on New Libertopia has inspired the habitat's communities to host the New Libertopia Cultural Fair! At this wonderful event, Union species have been expressing themselves in new and interesting ways, and alien species are encouraged to share the beauty of their own cultures.
Headlining the event is the Vegvian clone band Zoryal-Thunn. Opening with the song 'When Moegmar Arrives'.
The Zoryal-Thunn band members were grown here in the Union as a part of the Vegvian Preservation Project, and once they finished their adjustment cycle, they chose to remain in the Union as citizens.
Their songs revolve around the Vegvian history they studied during their adjustment cycle, and the battles and struggles of the past. Their songs don't celebrate war or violence, instead they honor the dead, sing to inform, and encourage a message of peace. Their iconic instruments catch the eye, repurposing of hard-light axes into musical instruments in a swords-to-ploughshares dramatic flare.
Not far from the concert, the elusive Ugluk artist Bloroworoe Riououeururowuw has set up a stall at the Fair to give some flare to the exoskeletons of Ugluks. Bloroworoe promised that for each decal painted, they'll answer a question about their art.
The stall also attracted some spectators, including Thylaks, who Bloroworoe encouraged to come in and made it clear that anyone, whether it be synthetic life forms, or organics with an exoskeleton or cybernetics limbs are welcome to be turned into a piece of walking art.
Meanwhile, the Mod community of the New Libertopia Ostess-Sat has promised to set up a stall at the fair soon. They're just gatering supplies, data on the anatomy of alien life, and looking for a space to set up at the moment.
The Ostess-Sat Modders are a group of Ostess-Sat speeder riders and racers who enjoy cyberneticly modifing themselves. Their passions grew from engineering their speeders to be safer and faster in the Ammonia Sector race tracks, which then moved to the modification of robots for quick repairs of speeders on the tracks in pitstops. And then of course, they began expressing modification in themselves. Hence 'Mods'. ::3
The Feforyans of New Libertopia have set up a presentation of their martial arts slash dance called Pudra. The teachers said they're willing to teach anyone, so long as people treat the art respectfully.
Pudra originated as an old Feforyan self defence martial art used against cruel Fefings. It developed in the pre-Observer age of post-Nuclear Feforia and in the time since then, its developed into a cultural dance which has a number of different styles depending on the situation and its not restrictive in terms of what someone can do with the amount of limbs the practioners may or may not have. This is in part due to the recent mutations which turned Feforyan legs into a fused tail, but it's also partly because of the many alien races Feforyans have encountered.
Lastly, the Replicants have set up a stall displaying the new lifeforms engineered for Feforia, animals that have been spliced from a number of different creatures that can withstand the planet's toxic atmosphere.
They explained how each critter is being crafted to be beautiful and unique in their eyes, even if some found the creations to be disturbing, none can deny its an impressive show of scientific mastery and biological artistry.
Well, that's all the major attractions of the New Libertopia Cultural Fair so far! I know I said 'lastly' with the Replicant event, but the Fair is still only on its first day, and you expect many more additions from our other alien residents soon! If you find yourself in New Libertopia in the coming weeks, be sure to visit these and other attractions and enjoy yourselves!
This is Bluglakkag Flublabbak saying thanks for tuning in to our signal here at UNC. Be sure to bookmark our wavelength for future updates.
Solace in the Union.
11 notes
·
View notes
Text
We're making a post cause I have ✨ thoughts✨ (more like very confused questions): Doctor Who: The Pandorica Opens
Vincent again? Oh he's not well
Wait, cut to Winston Churchill? And now year 5145? What is this?
Ooh it's River Song! Badass woman
Gallery with empty frames? Liz 10! All the amazing people meeting up
HE SAID VAVOOM
The first ever words in history say "hello sweetie", so Doctor Who
Oh they don't, it was just River's shenanigan
TARDIS' clashing in Vincent's painting, that can't mean anything good
Obviously it's in Stonehenge
Cyberman's head? Are you shitting me?
So everyone in the galaxy is coming for a big bad box
We're gonna see romans fighting! Wahoo!
What is the Cyberman even doing down there?
RORY IS A ROMAN SOLDIER
this is so romantic
The Doctor is actually a great public speaker
Btw River has gorgeous hair (curly hair goals)
The Romans are just robots. This shit's so fucked up.
THEY'RE GONNA ENSLAVE THE DOCTOR
HE DIDN'T JUST SHOOT AMY
The sad music is killing me
The doctor is closed in a box. The TARDIS and all supernovas ever exploded. Amy is dead. How does this can fucking continue?
#doctor who#the pandorica opens#11th doctor#amy pond#dr river song#rory williams#the tardis#romans#matt smith#explosion#thoughts no one asked for
6 notes
·
View notes
Note
favourite books you read in 2023? least favourite?
To the surprise of absolutely no one, my dearest, favourite book I read this year was T.E Lawrence's Seven Pillars of Wisdom. It was the kind of book that was not only damn good but also changed me fundamentally as a person and put my personality and interests on a new trajectory with a jetpack strapped on. It's impossible to overstate the impact this book has had on me. The actual, physical edition I read is also part of my dearest 2023 memories: I was on a mission to find it when I went on a solo-trip to Berlin this summer, the first bookshop I went to gave me a postcard and wrote some suggestions for where to find it on the back (I have the postcard taped up by my bed) - I took the U-bahn straight to the first shop and they had it! I loved that shop, it had such a cool vibe and the man at the register was really nice. Bought way too many books there most of which I still haven't read. When I open that edition of Pillars it's like I'm back in Berlin in the summer heat. I've said all of this and not even talked about the inherent qualities of the book, but they're many and I loove it. WE SEVEN PILLARS POSTING IN THIS INVIOLATE HOUSE AS A MEMORY TO YOU.
Lawrence's The Mint was also another favourite, as was Jeremy Wilson's Lawrence biography and John Mack's Prince of Our Disorder.
On the topic of non-fiction, I read a very entertaining book called The Fires of Lust: Sex In The Middle Ages which I recommend. Really interesting and enlightening research and assertions. It humanizes peoples of the past and effectively makes the point that people, across time and space, are pretty much the same while pointing out the differences between medieval sexuality and our popular (mis)conceptions of it.
Back to literary fiction, I also read and very much enjoyed The Color Purple by Alice Walker, The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath and Song of Solomon by Toni Morrison. James Joyce's The Dead was my favourite short-story, with E.M Forster's The Life to Come and D.H Lawrence's Fanny and Annie coming in at 2nd and 3rd, respectively.
I didn't read any fiction I would call bad or anything, but if I have to say least favourite it's probably Emily St. John Mandel's Station Eleven. Just not my type of book.
Some of the (new) books I hope to read and finish by 2024: War and Peace (cirka 200 pages in rn), Anna Karenina, Orlando, The Odyssey, A Passage to India, The full Oxford text of Seven Pillars of Wisdom, and Jens Bjørneboe's Bestialitetens Historie.
This got kinda long but thank you for the ask darling❤️
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
I'm Not really a believer of ghosts (the thought of spirits/ signs from dead loved ones makes me feel better but I don't know if I believe it) but I'm fascinated by this video I saw on tiktok a little while back
I forgot what they called it but it was this method of "spirit communication" where you're blindfolded and have noise cancelling(?) headphones loudly blasting transmission from a "spirit box" (as far as I can tell they're usually boxes capable of picking up radio signals in a garbled manner). since you can't hear anything else or see anyone (sensory deprivation) you have no outside influence and instead shout out what YOU heard. or think you heard in response to questions that you cannot hear.
I guess this would prove that "oh they can't hear the questions so if the answers are relevant it's proof of spirits using them as a vessel" but it really just reminds me of Koko and how the sign language was interpreted to formfit any question thrown their way. It makes me think of how I used to believe that if my cat meows after I ask it a question, surely we must be communicating, it's just that I can't understand him and he can't understand me.
It makes me think about that time in YouTube History where people would play random songs backwards and write on the screen what evil message they thought they heard. If you listen to it while reading the subtitles, you hear it. If you listen without, it's nonsense garbled noise. If you listen with some jokey subtitle instead, you hear that instead.
Basically: with these attempts of spirit communication it's interesting to me that what would otherwise be noted as a non-answer/nonsense is suddenly a message from beyond the veil because of the hope that it is.
if you asked me "how are you feeling?" and I said "newspaper" you'd say "? what? no I said how are you feeling"
if a transmission says the same on the millions of ghost hunting shows I see around, they'd start analysing it to pieces, coming to the conclusion that newspapers are read, which sounds like red, which means THE SPIRIT IS ANGERED.
to go on another tangent since I don't really know how to end this post or if I really came to any conclusion other than "it's a reoccurring thing that people will find meaning in anything if it justifies/"proves" their premade conclusion (no duh):
The Simpsons effect/ Simpson prediction/ Nostradamus Simpsons/ whatever you want to call it pisses me off. mostly because half of the shared "FUTURE PREDICTIONS" are clearly doctored images? but they post them anyway? it's not predicting the future to have an episode about a deadly disease, because deadly disease epidemics existed before 2020 surprisingly. and it's not predicting the future if a joke ages poorly either. I could shout the names of a million celebrities and how they'll allegedly die right now and who knows, maybe one will be right. Doesn't mean I predicted it.
#long post#ramblings#this is mostly just making connections from one thing to another in my head#not against believing in ghosts or people that do#I just believe any form of radio communication is hearing what you want to hear#I might ramble more here#I want to practise being capable of actually wording how I feel on topics
3 notes
·
View notes
Note
Happy WBW! What are dragons like in your wip? I'm hearing you recently added them?👀
@writingonesdreams
Thank you for the ask!
Technically, they're wyverns (think... dragons from Skyrim!) since I like that body plan way better personally. So, I've not set up the static/"this is what actually happened" history for them, but, it goes a bit like this...
(under the cut because it got long!)
In the Song Age, when the old gods still lived, each species remained on their own planet/plane of existence, each created by the gods. It is said that the god of stars, Lūmurāissā, created the true wyverns within the elf-world (name TBD). They became a sort of revered animal, prominent in elven art, music, myths, and religion.
These wyverns are incredibly large, with long, sharp claws and horns. They have hollow bones but covered in dense scales of dull, camoflauge-like colors depending on their environment and genetics. They also have manes and furry tail tips like lions, and prefer cooler environments (in accordance with the northern continent and the chilly environs of the old elf-world). They often hunt large ungulates, and tend to live solo over a large habitat, only breaking this habit during mating season. They breathe a white, cold flame, reminiscent of starlight, and grow larger as they age (a bit like those from ASOIAF). The oldest, biggest wyverns tend to run as tall as most fantasy dragons (i.e. big as hell), but these tend to be more and more reclusive as they grow out of reproductive age.
After the Collision of the Worlds, the true wyverns were lucky enough to survive in the northern half of the continent, with the majority of the elves. A few may have wandered onto the southern continent, but they're long since dead.
Post-Sundering, when the continent split into two, the true wyverns survived in the mountains and highlands of the northern continent, Inaesra. For a long time, the elves treated the wyverns the same as ever, but over the thousands of years after the death of the gods, the wyverns slowly became more and more of a nuisance for the elves and their nations. They slowly lost their luster and appeal from ages past.
While wyverns still remained a popular figure in culture, in reality, a whole niche of wyvern hunters sprung up, taking bounties and hunting dragons near to extinction.
Then, one day in Aeros, while a wyvern hunter cadre was in her small town hunting the young female wyvern nearby, young elf Naera sa'Anoe disrupted their plans by taming the wyvern enough to ride. She went on to tame that wyvern's entire clutch, and proved their 'domesticity' to the elven queen of the time. She was granted leave to start the sa'Anoe Wyvernry, where she helped breed a new type of riding wyvern, called the naera wyvern, or the riding wyvern.
Shortly after, the true wild wyvern was declared protected by Aeros.
With a far sleeker, smaller build that brings their maximum size to only roughly that of a horse, naera wyvern riders were used primarily by Aeros for several thousand years for scouting, courier work, spying, and reconnaissance. They tend to have similar muted colors, but in a greater variety of hue, and a more varied omnivorous diet. Same mane and fuzzy tail-tip as true wyverns. They breathe far less fire, but can still pack a punch (or bite) if they must. They have shorter, blunter claws and horns.
Naera wyverns have been released into the wild (by accident or on purpose) across both continents, with a higher adaptation to both cold and hot climates, and a preference for higher altitudes. In the wild, naera perform more pack-like behavior, with a mating pair that nests every mating season to raise a clutch of baby wyverns, which may pair off themselves or remain to raise their younger siblings when the time comes. Wild naera tend to have sharper claws and horns and more flame than their tame counterparts.
Lastly are the pygmy wyverns, an offshoot of the naera and their sizes range from large cat to big dog, and about as many breeds. They come in many different body styles (like short wings, fancy horns, very fluffy, etc) and colors (rainbow! sparkles! patterns!) unseen on both naera and true wyverns. They're definitely like the more pet version of a naera, but they also have specific breeds like dogs that would be good for hunting or guarding treasure (which is probably where the myth comes from in Ahvan, rather than true wyverns protecting a hoard in the wild).
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
Words, words, Words! - from wp blog, 29/02/2020
…as goes the infamous Hamlet quote, sort of. Tis the theme of both this blog post and, it seems, my life.
Oh hello, by the way, my dear visitor. Thought I'd gone for good, eh? Took up and left with my tea and biscuits? Well... there are no more biscuits left, I'm afraid. They're full of empty calories, you know. Help yourself to a square of some hefty dark chocolate. There. Don't you feel like such an adult? So mature... sipping green tea and indulging on chocolate that costs MORE than a quid. No no don't go-
Sorry. I had a diet revelation, realised that feeling tired and crap correlated with how well I was eating. Am I on one of those fad diets? No, not really. Just looked up the balanced diet thing on the NHS website. They teach you that stuff in school but by the time you're this age it's a faded vague mantra of "five a day" in the back of your head. So, I went on the website and I learned - get this - that you need to eat at least FIVE vegetables or fruit a day.
Yeah, I know, I groaned too. How am I gonna do that? But, actually, two tablespoons of dried fruit counts as one, a reasonably digestible amount, so chuck that on a bowl of Crunchy Nut. A couple of vegetables in your lunch, a couple for your dinner, and a piece of fruit as a snack and BOOM suddenly your digestive system works VERY well.
Sorry, you've zoned out, haven't you? Anyway, I do feel so much better now. I eat more, but I eat healthy. Not all the time of course, that's not human. So, if I tell you I secretly do have Lidl's waffles in the cupboard, shall I toast them and cover them in Nutella and make us a wee snack? Yes, sounds like a plan.
So, while you're letting that sugary cotton wool dissolve in your mouth, allow me to say more words... words, words. Sorry, I had to reference the title to make sure you remembered the topic.
I fricking love words. I love how they mediate everything, how I can pour the deepest recesses of my being into something written and it can be expressed and seen. I love how I feel when I write, too: it's like speaking to a god, or something. I can see why the Romans believed in Muses, because how, why else could I feel so compelled by an art form?
Poetic prose aside, I also love the things that contain words - languages. Ugh, can't get enough of them. I love how by learning a language you can learn all sorts about a culture, about the people, about how their tongues and mouths shape the words they speak. There's so many more sounds out there besides English.
In French, I learned that there's a way of talking where you blend sounds together so it's like a relaxed-mouthed song, fluid, constant and most natural when filled with euh's. Words are the flowing river, euh's are the river's banks to keep the conversation on track and natural. You get to a point in French where once you know the grammar and core vocabulary, you can understand a lot of the rest of the language. Except for when you can't, of course.
In Latin, I learned that a lot of English words and a lot of French words come from it. I learned that in comparison every other language's grammar, to generalise, is easier. I think I know how to spell better because of Latin. Learning a dead language also connected me to a dead society, and connected me more to my passion of history (but mainly classics). I also like reading inscriptions out loud and wondering how they were spoken. Are the v's said like v's or w's? An ongoing debate. It's irrelevant, anyway, because the native speakers are dead and we, the learners, are alive, so we can make our own rules.
I should probably delete that last sentence, scholars might burn me at the stake for it.
Ancient Greek gave me a taste for different alphabets - and then I was suddenly on a journey, because Ancient Greek didn't quite click, wasn't quite relevant enough (because Latin is?). But I wanted a code to crack, something hidden, something that looked completely different from the Roman alphabet, something not taught at my school.
I tried Chinese, except not really. Learning all those complex characters seemed a bit too much for fifteen, sixteen-year-old me, so I learned the one for 'beauty' and the one for 'love' and then moved on.
I tried Russian, learned all 33 letters of the alphabet, doodled vocabulary artistically on a page and felt satisfied. I remember a word sounding like 'zoloto', but can't remember the meaning. I think it's something random, like grape or goose. But I couldn't see myself visiting Russia, so I left it after a couple of video tutorials.
My friend J was learning Japanese, I remember, and I did consider that, but at the time the alphabets ("There's two of them? No thanks.") seemed far too complex, and I knew they used Chinese characters which were also too complex, and also Japanese was super trendy at this point in time so it was a bit too mainstream for sixteen-year-old me. Where's nearby? Ahah! Korea!
That's not actually how it happened - I had no clue about the geography of that part of the world, for starters. I'd only ever seen a map of Japan isolated on its own page, so I had no idea who its neighbours were. Actually, a few years ago, my mum's friends from South Korea visited, and that planted the seeds for my future romance with the language. That was the initial Tinder viewing.
Except I'd completely forgotten about the whole experience. I'd rejected the Tinder profile and let it go. The words 'Korea' and 'Korean' didn't connect to anything I knew, so they didn't stick at first. But then I watched a few documentaries, and then I was down one of those internet rabbit holes. I became more interested, and somewhere down the line, I became fascinated, and then somehow it became three years of language passion.
Korean taught me that brains are amazing and can learn new systems of writing and speaking, if you give it the chance, if you have the incentive and interest. I learned how to shape new sounds, how to perform Korean mannerisms, how to be polite and respectful in that culture, what that culture is. I also began to understand words in K-pop songs, and not just the English ones, which is goddamn satisfying even to this day (although nowadays my brain gets confused and can't always tell which language they're speaking).
Now I'm learning Japanese at university, and again the wonder of the brain has been proven to me again. With it, I've found that for each language, there's a different mindset. When I speak Japanese or Korean or sometimes French to myself, I take on a whole new personality - it's like the people I write in my stories. With each new language there's a new language baby inside my head, slowly developing, learning about the world around it in a new way with new words.
It all comes back to words. Words connect me to culture. Words connect me to my characters and stories. Words connect me to people.
That's why my next project is Thai - part of it is an ego thing, admittedly, visitor. I seem to have a 'thing' for languages that look completely different to my native alphabet. I must collect them all, just like Thanos in the picture. But it's also completely different sound-wise, unlike Japanese and Korean which don't have many of their own syllables, and I'm fascinated every time I hear it. It's so interesting listening to a language and not knowing anything at all about it, not even knowing where the words or sentences start or end. It's also a culture I don't know much about, either - I didn't absorb much at three years old when I visited Thailand with Mum. I can't wait to go on the language journey all over again, or rather rollercoaster, with the rush of all the puzzle pieces clicking together, of the noticeable growth, of the sheer amazement at the world when I can finally read what my boyfriend is texting, or understand at least one word when he speaks Thai.
But before then - Japanese. And Korean. And my own fucking language! Jeez, there's so much to learn and absorb and develop, so much character development to be had, but it all takes time and loyalty.
I'm sorry if I have not been all that loyal to this blog, and you, visitor. But you see, sometimes there's just a LOT. Too much. You know? And then I don't know what to focus on, and then... you know? Yeah. You know. Words, words, words.
Anyway, to summarise, I suggest you learn one word from a foreign language, right now. Doesn't matter how, or what, or how long - google it. And then just put that word in your head, hold it, even if it's only for a moment; think about how many different ways of thinking about the world there are. Mind-blowing, right? I go through that every time I study Japanese! (Which, ahem, probably isn't as often as it should be)
Yes, of course you can have another waffle. Sorry visitor, that was a bit of a ramble, but I just have so many thoughts and sometimes in different languages and I just wish I had someone to talk to who knew all the languages I'm learning and- yeah, the Nutella's just over there, with the knife still sticking upright out of it. Sorry, the handle's a bit sticky now. Sorry? I should stop apologising on my own blog? Sorry, I'll try- oh no, I mean, so- no, I mean sorry- sorry! Sorry...
Words, words, words. Have a good week, visitor.
#wholesome#language#i'm still trying to learn thai#i've forgotten all my japanese lol#i still remember some korean tho
0 notes
Audio
“Caramelldansen” with every second beat removed
#caramelldansen#speedycake#speedycake isn't dead by the way#that post on the history of this song said that they're dead but they're not#long live speedycake#music#every other beat#every second beat#song#second beat song
50K notes
·
View notes
Note
Nick you killed me with those tags on Sarah's Country Boy Hotch post and now I can stop thinking about that scenario where they have a history and even with all these new barriers in place they're still determined to be in each others lives??? Dead.
YES. @ssa-sarahsunshine I’m actually OBSESSED with your country boy Aaron hc it’s absolute perfection I need MORE
There are so many barriers, Aaron’s baby on the way, Haley, they’re both in the closet, they’re going to be working together, but somehow they aren’t worried because they Know they will eventually end up together. Maybe it’s a bit of a soulmate thing. Because they ARE madly in love but subconsciously they know in time they will get what they want.
But when they first see each other again it’s such a shock. Spencer is there for a job interview, Gideon is right next to him, his instinct is to shout ‘Aaron?!’, to run up and hug him, check he’s real. Aaron is just as stupefied, stood frozen in place for a fraction of a second. They say ‘nice to see you again’ but that’s as much as they’ll acknowledge of the other. Little do they know both their thoughts are racing and minds flashing with images of the greatest summer of their lives.
Then Spencer joins the team permanently and they reconnect. They get along seamlessly, they’re both so proud of each other for how far they’ve come. Aaron became a prosecutor like he said he would, he got out of that small town and away from his dad. Spencer got his mom into Bennington and lectured around the country. Their past at the ranch that one summer goes unspoken for years, but sometimes a book will land on Spencer’s desk- the one spence le read aloud to Aaron, or Spencer will turn the radio up in the car when a song is on- once that Aaron played to him on the guitar. But eventually the dam breaks and they reminisce and fall in love all over again, sometime after Haley’s death.
Also Spencer is so upset that Aaron got rid of his sexy southern drawl and shaggy hair. And maybe Spencer tells him this and maybe Hotch grows his hair out a little and starts saying y’all more.
And after they get together they visit the ranch every year!!!!
#their love transcends time#see I think hotch truly loved Haley but with Spencer it was something deeper#hotchreid#physics magic#ask#hc
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
TØP Bi-Yearly Update #139: Don't You Shy Away (From Blogging About Fan Culture) (4/16/21)
Well... this week has been interesting!
A few years ago- heck, just one year ago- it would have been inconceivable to imagine Twenty One Pilots entering into a new era and me not being all over it. When Trench was released, I was practically a daily update page, covering every new drop of info as I reached it. Admittedly, a lot's changed since then. Some of those changes are just a matter of how much time and energy I have to run a blog. As I said ten days ago when it became clear that a new era was coming, I am deep into my doctoral work at the moment (and, due to defending my dissertation prospectus next Friday, will not be able to post next week either).
But there have also been some fundamental shifts in how I approach fan culture. The events of the last year, in the world and in my personal life, have made me really confront the problems inherent with holding people up onto a pedestal, of devoting any part of your life to following a stranger's, and of parasocial relationships in general. I cannot go back to the same mentality I formed in 2013 and kept until somewhere between 2017-19 where the music that I liked was a core part of my personality and writing about the people who made it was a thing that gave me purpose.
At the same time, though, I cannot pretend that I don't still love the band that provided me with indescribably valuable comfort at a time in my life where I needed it. Twenty One Pilots' music, message, and fan community carried me from one place to the next, and so did this blog. They're always going to be a part of me, my interests, and my history. So, yeah; I'm gonna keep writing about them, just with perhaps a little less gusto. And that's a healthy thing!
But boy, is there a lot to gush about. I don't know about the rest of you, but "Shy Away" has only continued to grow on me over the last week, leaving me very excited about the future of our band moving into the Scaled and Icy era.
Recap's under the "Read More". But before that, just gotta say (since I haven't for awhile): Power to the local dreamer.
|-/ (I ain't changing the logo, Tyler, you doof.)
Ok, so y'all don't need me to explain everything that's gone down in Cliqueland over the last two weeks. We had dmaorg updates that were quickly overshadowed by promo posters for Scaled and Icy (which, of course, is just an anagram of "Clancy is Dead", because Tyler Joseph hates me personally) featuring our new icon mascot, Trash the Dragon and an album tracklist. We had a sweet new website launch with plenty of nifty Easter eggs and the promise of an exciting livestream performance on the album's release date, May 21, after well over a year off the stage. We had several interviews where we got intel over when to expect a tour (no clue), where Ned's at (missing), and if the album's being produced under duress from Dema (no comment).
More importantly than all of that, we had a dope new electro-indie song/tutorial for Jay's music drop. After I initially responded with a somewhat subdued "This is fun", "Shy Away" has just continued to worm its way deeper and deeper into my brain; I'm still humming it every hour or so. I cannot wait to someday hear a room full of people yell "I LOVE YOU (ooh ooh)" in harmony. The music video, directed by Miles Cable and AJ Favicchio, is somewhat light on narrative unless you fall down some Reddit rabbit holes, but has some nifty visuals (and space buns). More exciting for me is seeing another BTS video from Mark; it's been over two years since we've gotten to see Tyler and Josh at work, joking around with each other between takes, and that's such comfort.
Clearly, lots of folks are also digging this song. While it's still early, "Shy Away" has been outperforming "Level of Concern" at this same point in its release, having the best debut performance from an alternative song at Billboard since... "Jumpsuit". We'll see if this poppier track catches on better with radio audiences than other TØP tracks have since Blurryface and deliver the band another bona fide hit. I'll admit, I'm skeptical- I haven't heard anything quite like this cross over to the Top 40 in a few years now, it's gonna need to have some time to grow on people, and those promising early numbers are starting to trail off. I'm excited to be proved wrong!
That's about all I've got for now. Like I said earlier, I don't plan on releasing another update until two weeks from now, but I might change that plan if they happen to mess around and drop another track over the next week. We'll see. I'm excited. My band's back in action! Stuff's wild.
Once again, power to the local dreamer.
|-/
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
she moves in her own way. (jj maybank)
due to the ASTOUNDING response to my first jj fic which i have to say a huuuge thank you to everyone that liked, commented & reblogged, it honestly means the absolute world !! i couldn't wait much longer to start writing for my boy again, i have so many fic ideas and cannot wait to get them out to y'all. this one is shorter than the last, & the title is inspired from the song 'she moves in her own way' by the kooks (lol) but isn't necessarily based off of it, it's just something that i wrote up quickly bc i was in my feels™️ . also i feel very unoriginal with the whole plot and aspect of this but im gonna post it anyway bc i love jj lmao. anyway hope u enjoy !
warnings: swearing, underage drinking, drug use, violence, jj with a gun™️
summary: reader walks the fine line between either pogue or kook, though technically a kook, she ignores all social standings of the obx and jj maybank cannot stop himself from getting caught up in her whirlwind.
( gif isn’t mine! please let me know if it’s yours so i can credit you. )
Everyone seemed to have a different perspective of you, unsurprisingly. You weren't really much of a social butterfly, you kept yourself to yourself, really. Nobody in the Outer Banks knew much about you at all, other than what they had come up with in their heads. And while you tried your best to stay in the shadows, that only seemed to make you stand out more.
You were known for being the best of both worlds - not really a Pogue, but not really a Kook either. While your social status and family wealth suggested you to be a Kook, your free spirit and reckless behaviour fitted you better towards the Pogue style. If anyone were to ask you, you told them you were neither.
Why should a name define you anyway? You thought it was all bullshit, the stupid territorial arguments and the snide comments from both sides. You thought it was ridiculous, you weren't living in The Outsiders, for fuck sake.
You moved in your own way, simple as that. You wouldn't let anyone tell you what to do, where you can't or shouldn't be, it was a free country you'd say, middle finger salute ready to aim towards anyone who dared cross you. You were an enigma, wild and careless, unforgiving and unforgettable. You didn't necessarily like the attention, but you got it. And you knew it, and you played on it, too.
You had used your irresistible charm more than enough times to bail JJ Maybank out of trouble, despite your parents' protest. They didn't have a problem with the Pogues, persay, how could they when your dad been one half of his life before meeting your mom and marrying into the rich lifestyle; they just had a problem with JJ, as many of the parents on the island did. He was an unstoppable force to be reckoned with, weed smoking, knuckles constantly torn, skin bruised, quick wit, sarcastic humour, daddy issues, you know the type. Kids loved him, parents hated him.
You were friends with JJ, you supposed. You spent your time with him talking about your days and smoking a joint, meaningful conversations turning into joking and general tomfoolery within seconds. With JJ, you were simply unapologetically you, and JJ never judged you. He never made you choose a side, seemingly content with the fact that you were a little bit of everything, though there was times when he teased you relentlessly about the Kook life, but that was just JJ.
And despite the social differences, him being a Pogue through and through, you technically a Kook, you were drawn to each other pretty easily. Not that you hung out all the time, but you loved every second when you did, usually joined by his group of best friends - John B, Pope, and Kiara. With Kiara a Kook herself but drawn more to the lifestyle of the Pogue's, she understood you more than anyone. You'd bonded a lot, and with each of them too.
JJ loved that you fitted in with them, like a missing puzzle piece. So perfectly, it shook him to its core. The pair of you were close, but he had no idea where he stood with you, like most people never when it came to you. You were like a rollercoaster, taking people for the most exciting ride of their lives that lasted a full three or so minutes before they returned back to solid ground. You'd given JJ a ride a number of times on your non-existent metaphorical rollercoaster, and he'd returned for another ride time and time again. You couldn't say no to that damned boy.
It was a blessing and a curse, the unspoken relationship you shared. A blessing because JJ was the best thing that happened to you, and a curse because that was your downfall. You never got attached to people, never given yourself the chance. But then JJ Maybank had come along, blonde hair and blue eyes, split lip and sharpened teeth, words cunning. You saw him as a challenge at first, the name Kook Princess haunting you as he spoke them, stood in front of you at the keg upon your first real meeting. He'd held a drink out towards you, smirk perfect on his pink lips.
You'd attended over a hundred kegger's in your lifetime, the Pogue parties more inviting than those of the Kook's. You danced and talked to anyone that came across your path, whether it be unknowing Tourons, unjudging Pogues, or unforgiving Kooks, you drew them all in. You didn't fit in with any of them, JJ had realised. You really did move in your own way, he thought. He liked that, he'd decided. And hey, you were pretty cute too.
On that particular night, he'd spoken to you directly for the first time in a long time. "Would the Kook Princess like a drink?" He'd asked, holding the red cup out towards you. You'd eyed the offended object, and subsequently him, too. He smirked at the attention. You had rolled your eyes.
"Don't call me that," you'd said simply, but taking the cup from his hands regardless. You took a sip, relieved to discover that he hadn't tampered with it in any way. You were still considered a Kook to most people, after all. You could never be too careful. "Thanks, Maybank."
And he'd blinked at you, lips suddenly raising to a sly smile as he shrugged, dimples winking at you as they appeared in his cheeks. "Anytime," and he'd spoken your name back to you and you couldn't get enough of the way it sounded coming from his mouth, and you realised hey, this guy is pretty cute, and the rest, as they, is history.
You were in the midst of another infamous Pogue kegger at the current, months after your first introduction to JJ Maybank and his friends, and you stood off to the side, listening to JJ intently as he ranted about the events of the day he'd endured. Starting from finding a Grady White sunken in the marsh, "A fucking Grady Marsh, they're like 500 G's man!", to discovering that the boat belonged to Scooter Grubbs, who had coincidentally been found dead that same day, to getting chased by two guys with a gun, to the finding of the motel key from the wreck and breaking in that same motel room, finding a safe full of money and a gun of all things, to their best attempt at laying low which, unsurprisingly, resulted in the kegger in the first place.
JJ was wild in his recite of the events, hands gesturing every which way as you watched him with your lips curled into your mouth, resisting a smile at his antics. When he finished he retelling, you raised an eyebrow and chuckled dryly. "So, complete and utter boring day for you, huh?"
JJ chuckled along with you, shaking his head as if he was still in disbelief from everything that had happened in the past twenty four hours. "Man, it was crazy," he muttered. He looked at you then, eyes sincere. "I wish you were there with us. It was like something straight from a movie, I'm telling you. I feel like such a badass with that gun."
Your secret joy at his confession of that he wished you were was short lived, as the last of his words sunk in and you felt dread build in the pit of your stomach. You stared at him, him so excited that he hadn't even realised your face had dropped, before you reached out and grabbed his arm, effectively halting his movements and stopping the hurried flow of words that were leaving his mouth.
"JJ," you said carefully, eyes trained on his as he stared, clueless. "Please tell me you did not take that gun from the safe."
Your heart dropped as you saw him falter, his lips helplessly moving but no words coming out. He held a hand up, as if to hush you, though you hadn't started to speak again, and then his hand had dropped just as quick as it was raised, his teeth biting down on his chapped lip as the realisation dawned on you.
"JJ Fucking Maybank," you spat, hands slapping gently at his arms, because you could never really hurt him, you just wanted him to know you were pissed. "Do you realise how fucking careless that is? How much trouble you could get into, if anyone knew you had a gun-" your voice trailed off, your eyes closing as you exhaled. "JJ, please tell me you don't have it on you right now."
His lack of reply was the only answer you needed, and your stomach churned as you stepped back from his figure, suddenly feeling sick. He followed you, though, not letting you get too far as he took your arms in his hands and tried to drag you closer to him once more. You shook your head, arms slipping from his hold as you glared at him fiercely.
"That's so fucking stupid, JJ. You could get into serious trouble with this, trouble I won't be able to get you out of." You warned, because you knew it was true. Your charm and looks could get him out of some trouble to its extent, but it was more so your parents wealth and status that got the both of you out of shit when you managed to get into it, and you also knew your parents would literally throw a fit if you got involved in something like this - carrying a gun was no joking matter. You stepped back once more, hand finding its way to your forehead. "And from a crime scene, no less. Fucking hell."
JJ licked his lips, standing back roughly as you watched, his jaw clenching. "Well I'm not asking for your help here, Princess," he taunted, the nickname sending a wave of annoyance through you. JJ knew it would. "It's not like I ask you to help me, you're just there. Thinking I need help, like I'm some fucking charity case, a fucking doll you picked up from the thrift store that was gonna be thrown out the next day."
You tried to protest, but JJ didn't give you the chance. "I don't need your help all the fucking time. I don't need your pity. I get that you won't understand because why would you? You're a Kook, you get everything you want handed to you on a silver platter. And you can argue and fight me about it all you want, but I know you know it's true."
He sighed heavily, hands running down his face in a sign of defeat. You watched him all the while, thankful that you had ventured off the outskirts of the party so that hopefully nobody had heard JJ shouting at you, your heart wrenching as his blue eyes settled on you. "I'm sorry, JJ," you said finally. You refused to cry, though the desire to at the sight of him being so mad at you tore you apart. "I'm just trying to look out for you. With the gun thing, with everything that I help you with. And I know I'm a Kook, and I know that my parents could afford to buy half of this fucking island if they pleased, but that doesn't define me. I care, okay? And I know I care a lot more than a lot of people in your life."
It was probably a low blow, and you knew it. But JJ took it in, let the words sink into his brain where they stayed there, his fists clenching at his sides. You crossed your arms over your chest, defeated.
"I'm gonna go back to the party," you whispered. "I'll see you around, I guess." You eyed his pockets, unsure of where exactly he held the gun. "Be careful, okay."
And even when you were angry with him, you still tried to make sure he was okay, that he stayed safe. There was multiple occasions you'd showed up unannounced, simply asking how his day was, if he okay, if he had eaten that day, stayed hydrated. At first the attention startled him, he'd never really had anyone look out for him in that aspect, and yet there you were, like an angel sent from the gods themselves, smiling down at him.
You cared, he realised. You cared so much that sometimes he couldn't take it, because he didn't know how. The most family he'd ever gotten close to having in his life was the Pogues, after losing his mother and subsequently losing his father too as he turned into the monster that he was, cold and distant, fists always poised ready for an imaginary fight, and he knew that someday the Pogues would even slip through his fingers. He couldn't let that happen with you. He wouldn't.
He'd started off in your direction, truly, he had. But then John B was grabbing him and averting his attention to him, and he focused on his friend, promising only a minute of his time. You were in his sights, stood a bit away, and he recognised the couple you were talking to as Sarah Cameron and Topper Thorton, Kooks through and through. He held his distaste back, and even held a drink out to offer to Sarah as she and Topper made their way past where he and John B were standing. Big fucking mistake, he realised quickly.
It had all happened in a blur of events, each little bit leading to big finale - as he watched his best friend being held down in the water, powerless to Topper who kneeled over him, hands forcing John B to stay put in the sea. Sarah was screaming at Topper, Pope was holding JJ back with all his might, Kie beside them as she screamed along with Sarah to let John B go. And there you were, suddenly beside JJ, gripping his arm tightly as you took in the sight with a horrified glare. JJ didn't even hesitate; the gun had been pulled from his shorts and was directed at Topper's head in the blink of an eye.
The fury in his veins was red hot and ugly, tearing through every part of him like a vice. This was the Pogues land, their side of the island, and yet the Kooks still thought they could get away with anything and everything - including, apparently, attempting to drown his best friend.
"Your move, broski," JJ uttered through clenched teeth. He could hear the screams of the crowd behind him, and he pulled the gun away from Topper's head and into the direction of the sky, firing two shots towards it as the crowd of people quickly dispersed, screeches sounding from all over. "Now everybody needs to get the fuck off our side of the island!"
He was shoved to the side as Sarah rushed to her boyfriend, telling him he was fucking crazy or something like that, he wasn't really listening. The shots rang in his ears, and the adrenaline of the moment soured through him. Kie and Pope were screaming at him, he could hear their voices distantly. His blue eyes were unfocused for a second, before they looked up, and there you were.
Sent from the gods themselves, once again. You looked vibrant, so insanely alive, lips red and cheeks flushed, eyes bright. You let out a shaky breath as you watched him. JJ clenched his jaw.
"He was going to drown John B," he thought he'd said, but he wasn't sure. He didn't really know what to keep track of at that moment, Kie and Pope's obvious disapproval at him literally doing the one thing they swore not to do, Sarah and Topper stumbling away from the scene in the distance, John B getting up and muttering something along the lines of he wasn't going to drown me, or you, simply staring at him.
Before he knew what he was doing, JJ had made his way towards you. The gun was still held in his hands, and you swallowed thickly as you eyed it. "You should put that away," you muttered. JJ seemed confused, before he caught on to what you meant and he shoved the gun back to the spot of in between his shorts and his hip. "You literally did the one thing I said not to, you tool."
JJ cracked a smile, small and uncertain as he gazed at you. You stepped closer to him, eyes glancing over his shoulder. "You really pissed them off," you said, meaning his friends.
JJ shrugged, because he didn't care about their opinion, he cared about yours. And if you hated him now, hated the fact that he was just some dirty Pogue who held guns against people's heads now, apparently. "I don't care about what they think," he spoke softly. You looked at him confused. "I care about what you think."
You smiled softly, shrugging one shoulder. "Topper was going to drown John B," you replied, matter of fact. "If you hadn't stepped in when you did, who knew what could have happened. Nothing could have stopped him." You bit your lip, hand reaching out and touching his face gently, thumb soothing over the worried line between his brows. "You did the right thing, J. A fucking crazy and stupid thing, potientally dangerous, but the right thing nonetheless."
"Yeah, that's kind of my go-to, if you haven't already noticed," JJ smiled, tongue running over his bottom lip. You rolled your eyes, though playful. "Look, I'm sorry about before, okay. I was a dick. I know you care, but sometimes that's what scares me."
Your eyebrows furrowed, a confused expression on your face as your hand dropped from his face to intertwine with his own hand, his gaze suddenly becoming fixed on your linked hands, his other absentmindedly playing with your fingers that held his hand.
"It's like, you're this untouchable thing. I mean, you don't belong to anyone, you refuse to go by anything other than your name, and you're like this perfect mix between Pogue and Kook even if you do hate it and everyone knows who are you and they make these stories up about you, like that's how popular you are," JJ chuckled. "And then you hang out with me, you look past all the dirty Pogue shit, see me for who I am, and you care. And you care so god dammed much that it fucking terrifies me because nobody's ever cared that much before about me, so why should you?"
His hand left yours to remove the hat from sitting atop his hair and then run his hand through the blonde locks. You could see his tongue running along the outsides of his bottom teeth, the action causing a bump beneath his skin. He looked nervous than you had ever seen him before, and you'd both gotten into enough nerve-wracking situations together to compare. You sighed as your hands reached for his face, gripping his cheeks and forcing his eyes to gaze down at yours.
"JJ Maybank," you started, grinning softly. "You listen to me while I tell you that you deserve the fucking world and more. All this shit that you're going through, all the crap you deal with on a daily basis, you carry it so well that nobody would even know. You fight through each day and I don't even know how you manage it half the time. I admire you so much, J. And I can't help but care about you, even if you don't want me to. I care about you so much, that you wanna know a secret? It scares me too."
JJ gazed down at you lovingly, his forehead moving to rest against yours. You welcomed the embrace, his arms wrapping around your waist and squeezing you gently, as if reassuring himself that you were actually there.
"JJ," you whispered as you were stood in silence for a precise minute, neither of you daring to break the silence until you had. His blue eyes stared into yours, awaiting the next part of your speech. You swallowed your nerves down, figuring fuck it. "I'm so in love with you."
He grinned, his head swooping down before you knew it and his lips pressing against yours in a heated embrace that sent a sensation of butterflies to fly wildly in your stomach, bashing against your ribcage and taking your breath away. Shivers flew up your spine, and every hair on your body stood on edge as the kiss grew heavier, tongues brushing and teeth clattering, bodies pressed against each other as much as they could manage.
When JJ's lips left yours, you almost whined. JJ grinned cheekily, hands digging into your hips. "I love you," he breathed against the skin of your neck as he buried his head there, lips tickling the flesh. "I can't believe you just macked on me while I have a gun in my pocket."
You rolled your eyes and tugged gently on his hair, spurring a laugh from him as you shoved him away and grinned despite yourself. "Do not remind me, please," you warned him, allowing him to pull you into his side as you made your way down the beach. "I still can't believe you took that thing."
"I knew it'd come in handy though," he grinned, pulling you closer with the arm thrown over your shoulder. You wrapped yours around his waist, face squished in his chest as you shook your head.
"You're an idiot, Maybank."
#jj maybank x reader#jj maybank x you#jj maybank imagine#jj x reader#jj x you#jj one shot#obx jj#jj outer banks#jj obx#jj obx imagine#jj maybank#outer banks imagine#outer banks x you#outer banks x reader#outer banks#obx imagine#obx fic#kook!reader#kook!reader x jj#john b routledge#kiara carrera#pope heyward#sarah cameron#topper thorton
274 notes
·
View notes
Text
Gravity
Hi! Okay, so here’s chapter two of my growing back together story, inspired by the prompt “I won’t hurt you” @rosegardeninwinter sent me. I also posted this fic on AO3 under the title Gravity (like the Sara Bareilles song), if that’s where you prefer to read. And here’s a link to chapter one of this fic if you wanna read and haven’t yet.
Also I know I said in my first author’s note that there will be three chapters, but there might be a bit more.... we love an over-writer, right? 🤷🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️
I don’t know if you’re “supposed” to post every part of a multi chapter fic on here? Or just post the link to it on AO3? But for now I posted it in its entirety on here 😊.
Anyways, hope you like it! And thanks to anyone who reads! 💖💖💖
/
A couple months later.
We slide back after that. I don't know if that night-the night he had a nightmare that I died and we slept locked in each other's embrace-moved too quickly for Peeta or if he thought he was protecting me from him, but when morning light came, he was gone from the bed.
I didn't see him again until the following evening, helping Haymitch feed his rambunctious geese in the yard. He didn't speak to me for four more days after that, and when he did, it was to ask what kind of bread I wanted him to bring for lunch the next day.
I pretended to his face that it didn't hurt. That waking up in a cold, empty bed, in a house he all but abandoned until I had evacuated, that sleeping in his arms and awaking so abruptly alone, didn't hurt. I did what I had taught myself to do as a child and I turned my features into an indifferent mask, shutting off all access to my emotions. Destroying any possibility of anyone witnessing my vulnerabilities.
But I knew deep down, it did hurt. It hurt badly.
I didn't speak to him directly the first week he showed up for lunch and to work on the memory book again. I got by fine without addressing him directly, as Haymitch somehow sensed the bubbling tension between us and stayed sober just enough to remain alert for all our shared meals. He helped with the memory book, helped by adding in a snarky comment here or there to reel our focuses onto him instead of each other.
I wanted to say thank you but I never knew how. I doubt Haymitch needs me to verbalize it anyway. One night, as he follows behind Peeta to leave, his hand grazes my shoulder and gives it a squeeze and I know he's much more aware of the dynamic between his old tributes than he leads on.
But weeks after the night in question, the night that set Peeta and my friendship back months, we receive a telegraph from Effie. A telegraph that shakes the small amount of stability we've managed to build in the time since the war.
Apparently President Paylor has decided to move forward with arena destruction, an idea mentioned a few times by Plutarch on Caesar's talk show. An idea I didn't take seriously until now.
Paylor has decided to build a memorial for each of the arenas, for each year the games ever took place, to immortalize our history, so Panem can never forget how cruel and inhumane things once were. But first, she wants to eliminate the actual Hunger Games arenas, once and for all, before putting the memorials in their place.
My initial thought, months ago when Delly showed me Plutarch and Caesar discussing the idea, was that this would takes years to happen.
I was, once again, so clearly wrong. The plans have been expedited and the order in which each arena will be decimated has been swiftly decided.
All that alone doesn't sound terrible. I'd like to see those death pits crushed, burned, torn down, eradicated, or all of the above, by any means necessary. Only downside, initially, is that this will extend me—and Peeta and potentially all the other victors—remaining in the forefront of the public's mind.
Since the war, all I've ever wanted was for everyone in the country to forget who I am. I don't want to be known anymore. I just want to be left alone, to a quiet and peaceful and relatively simple life, without anyone ever recognizing me again. Without anyone thinking of me as the girl on fire, as the Mockingjay, as the sixteen-year-old who volunteered for a sister who was doomed to death anyway.
But, of course, there's a catch. There's always a catch.
Plutarch thinks it would be great to have the living victors be there—televised—in the Capitol and see the arenas before they're bulldozed.
Even with this dreadful proposition, I thought I had time to think of a way out of it. When Effie first sent the telegraph, I thought that I would have years before having to worry about going back to the places where my nightmares started.
Well, some of my nightmares, that is.
After all, it takes time to destroy something as large and as vast as an arena-excluding the way I destroyed the one in the Quell, that is. I figured-I rationalized, really-that by the time they got to number Seventy-Four, I would have a solid excuse to get out of attending.
I guess though they wished to start with the big years and the first decade of the Hunger Games wasn't very eventful, apparently—lucky them—so the first arena they wish to bid farewell to is the one from the second Quarter Quell. The Fiftieth Hunger Games. The one that was so strikingly beautiful and almost entirely poisonous.
The year Haymitch Abernathy, from the lowly District Twelve, won.
And being also from Twelve, my presence, along with Peeta's, suddenly became of the utmost importance as well.
At first, I still try to opt out of the event. Even after Effie chastises me over the phone, like not a day has passed since she was my escort, and even after my mother claims in her letter that it could be cathartic for me, I do not relent.
Delly and Thom and a few of the others in the community, like Kanon who runs the candy shop two stores away from the bakery, and Greta, who helps with the dusting and mopping all over town, try to say that it could be good for me. Greasy Sae claims it can't be worse than actually living through the games, and I silently appreciate her much more blatant statement than the comforting platitudes others try to provide me.
But it all falls on deaf ears in the end.
Because the only person I truly listen to is Peeta. Even bitter and wounded, the only person I really hear is him.
Unfortunately, as irritating as it is sometimes, his voice will always reach me when others can't.
But we don't ever have an actual conversation about it. Five days after Effie calls to announce the news, to tell me unequivocally that my presence is requested, Peeta sways me to go with just a look.
He comes over later than usual and brings extra bread and pastries to go with the deer meat I hunted. We feast silently, the air between us still incredibly awkward, when, without warning, our old mentor comes crashing through the door unceremoniously.
I don't know how much alcohol he consumed, but it's enough to knock even someone with Haymitch's tolerance off his feet.
By the end of the hour, the older man is practically beating his head into the wall of my dining room, screaming the names of dead children and about force fields and axes. And from across the kitchen table, Peeta touches my arm—the first time he's voluntarily touched me in weeks—and my eyes meet his, blue pouring into gray, and silently he begs me to go for the goodbye ceremony to Haymitch's arena.
And I give in. Not just for him. But also, in large part, to repay the caustic, miserable drunk that kept us alive. To support the unpredictable, temperamental man that I do consider my family somehow.
The ceremony is set to take place weeks later and the time does little to alleviate my anxiety. Peeta and me still don't speak much, but come time for lunch or dinner, there he is, in my house like clockwork.
When I point out, a few days before we're due at the train station, that there's a very realistic possibility that the Capitol won't let me go to the ceremony, Peeta casually says, "I already cleared that with Effie and Plutarch."
I shoot him a look of surprise. "You did?"
Shrugging nonchalantly before turning back to the rabbit on his plate, he murmurs quietly, "Thought it'd give you one less thing to worry about."
The ceremony is nothing like I expect. Somehow I figured there would be an obnoxiously large television crew, loud speakers, prepared speeches on written cards, awkward directions and crowds upon crowds of people surrounding us, asking pointed questions, shooting invasive stares and pressing for reactions to their nosy accusations. I expected those accusations to be directed at me and Peeta especially.
Instead, there's none of those things. There's no crowd at all, it's just us victors. Just Enobaria, Johanna, Annie, the three of us from Twelve and Beetee—who I still can't make myself so much as look at, reminded of my sister's absence and his role in it every time we so much as stand in five feet vicinity of each other.
The camera crew consists of Mitchell, Pollux and Cressida, along with two unfamiliar, but seemingly non-threatening faces. There's no directions, no prompting, not close ups or reshoots.
All that happens is Paylor makes a statement that the crew films, stating that the arenas will be destroyed one by one, and in the place of each there will be an individual memorial made, as we victors stand in an unorganized, crooked line that will surely make Effie cringe when she sees the footage on television later.
It's almost peaceful, I think to myself in surprise, as I look around at the location. The sky is a stunning cobalt, even more brilliant in person than in the video Peeta and I watched on the train so long ago. The meadow looks like the grass is fresh, like it was just watered yesterday. The mountain is so breathtaking I have to physically tear my eyes away from it and even the woods look rather cozy. Or maybe that part is just me.
There's also arraignments of flowers, just like in the footage we watched, that spill every which way, filling our noses with soothing, floral scents. It feels unnatural to say about a place set up for murder, but with the deadly poisons lurking at every turn eviscerated, I almost can find this arena truly beautiful.
Of course though, it's not my arena.
It's Haymitch's and he looks like he's about to be sick. He's white-knuckled it for a few days without any sort of drink—to my, Peeta's and, even Effie's, visible shock—and I can see plainly now that he's absolutely regretting it. His eyes are hallow and wild at the same time and I can see his shaking palms beneath the sleeves of his jacket as he stares out at the source of his every nightmare for the last quarter century.
It shocks me that he didn't find a way out of this. Actually, it shocks me still that these ceremonies are even possible.
I never knew they kept arenas after the games were over each year. I never realized they kept all seventy-four death pits, haunted by child sacrifice, the way you keep old vases on a shelf.
At this point though, it's just another thing to add onto the growing list of horrific and unthinkable issues that the Capitol doesn't even grasp. Keeping the haunted graveyards of children as souvenirs shouldn't sit right with anyone, I don't care how you're raised.
I tell myself to not be so quick to judge, as I can't know who I'd be if I had been born in the Capitol instead of the districts. Still, the idea of condoning the things they have without remorse or shame seems unthinkable.
I'm torn out of my thoughts when Cressida speaks. "Is there anything you'd like to say, Haymitch, before we finish filming?"
Once again, catching me off-guard entirely—he's full of all sorts of surprises evidently—Haymitch clears his throat and looks down at his leather boots before speaking. "Ardor. Garnett. Dolan. Silver. Ryker. Artemis. Slayte. Pistol. Lex. Mac. Lumen. Gig. Brook. Aqua. Mary. Ripley. Lyme. Watt. Rocky. Gio. Belle. Raven. Kia. Mecko. Barker. Jack. Holly. Briar. Essie. Stitch. Coco. Paul. Mira. Miller. Coop. Harvey. Butch. Cutter. Bea. Skinna. Basil. Sunny. Rip. Spring. Oaker. Terra. Maysilee." He lists off the names in a way that is so matter-of-fact that it would almost be robotic if it weren't for the hoarseness in his tone that grows stronger with every name he utters. He hesitates for only a moment before adding, "Corentine. Alannah. Alastar."
There's a long stretch of silence, where no one speaks, no one blinks, no one even breathes. We all know instinctively who these people are—I know solely from Maysilee Donner's name being called—but we still wait until Haymitch speaks again, to confirm our assumption.
"Those are the names of all the people this arena killed." His eyes grow glassy and his brow furrows in anger as he fights desperately to repress his emotions, and suddenly I have the strangest urge to hug my mentor, to make him feel better like he tried to do for me once when Peeta was stuck in the Capitol and I was distraught. But I know it wouldn't be appreciated or wanted, and quite honestly I'm glad for that, because I don't even know what to say.
The last three names Haymitch said stick in my head for some reason I can't explain other than an odd gut feeling. But then he speaks again, an in a voice growing gruffer by the second, he says right into the camera, "that's every single person who was killed because of the second Quarter Quell."
And, like I should have known all along, it hits me the last three names are the names of his family who were murdered to punish him for the stunt with the forcefield.
The last three names are the murders of the last people he loved. Until me and Peeta came along.
As if his thoughts matched mine, Haymitch suddenly shakes his head and his eyes widen again as he stares past all the rest of us, as he continues to take in the exact place in which life as he knew it, twenty-six years ago, was altered forever.
His reaction is more understandable and genuine than I imagined he would ever allow it to be, especially on camera, and I want to say something but me and him both aren't good at saying anything, and I find myself looking to Peeta, hoping he'd know what to do.
Peeta doesn't meet my gaze though. He's solely focused on our mentor and just when he opens his mouth to speak, the older man to suddenly shake his head in our general direction and clears his throat.
"I'm done. Tell Plutarch I'm done with this crap. Just hurry up and bulldoze this place so I can go back to Twelve," is all he says to Cressida as he storms off, but his voice is rough and caustic once again, and I can only hope he recovers from this event soon enough.
Somehow, witnessing Haymitch relive his games, even through the shield he so obviously puts up to the outside world, triggers me though. For some reason, I feel my eyes begin to water as I look around at the meadow, at the mountain, at the golden cornucopia, and wonder how anyone could build a place where kids would eventually go to die? How could anyone have ever been so inhumane? How could a country just accept it? How did we live for so long with the Hunger Games overtaking our lives and still remained complicit? I don't understand. The more time passes, the more days I'm separated from the war and from the old world and the old way of life, I just can't comprehend anymore how we ever lived in a place so horrific.
I feel my eyes spill over and I'm grateful that Cressida has stopped filming already, because if Plutarch saw any tears on film, he would make certain it ended up on television.
I wipe my tears with the heel of my hand, trying to go about it as subtly as I can, hoping no one else notices. For the most part, I'm golden. Enobaria is already exiting, with Beetee following not far behind. Jo's back is to me while she speaks to Annie, though as per usual, she seems to be irritated.
Of course, it's too much to ask for everyone to remain oblivious to my waterworks. Even as I rid myself of them before they become widely noticeable, I feel Peeta's eyes train on me and know, despite the distance between us for the last few weeks, he isn't going to ignore my upset.
To my surprise though, he doesn't speak. He doesn't utter a single syllable.
Instead, I feel his large, warm palm slip into mine and squeeze tightly, lacing our fingers together, in a way we have done thousands of times before. Like two puzzle pieces coming together to complete a picture, like two indivisible teammates that will fight against anything that is thrown their way, like two halves of a whole finally finding each other, his hand grasps mine with a vengeance and I know I won't be the one who let's go.
He's still holding my hand when we board the train, hours later.
//
A couple weeks later.
"Yes, Mrs. Greenstead, I will get the chocolate nut loaf and a platter of the cranberry cookies wrapped up for you... Yes, it will be ready by the time you arrive... No, I promise they won't be cold," Peeta assures through the bakery telephone—a new addition that Thom and his wife thought was necessary to run a proper bakery. So necessary they bought it for Peeta as an opening gift.
It's not that the gesture wasn't nice or that Peeta didn't deeply appreciate it. I personally saw that he did, wholeheartedly.
But seeing it on the wall every day was just another reminder to me of my own personal vendetta against the integration between the Capitol's way of life and the districts'.
The only place telephones used to exist, outside of the Capitol limits, was the houses in Victor's Villiage, and if I'm being honest, I wish it would have stayed that way.
Maybe I'm being selfish, as I happen to still reside inside a house that once belonged to the said village, therefore I already had experienced this luxury prior to the new world. But I just can't make myself break the association between the items that had recently become readily available for all and the horror that was the Capitol.
Still though, the change was inescapable Telephones, cameras, heating pads, curling irons, quick bake ovens, cars and so many other items, were all growing in popularly across each district. Not that I was able to see a lot of these changes personally. But letters from Annie and my mom, and the occasional—unprompted and yet still begrudged—call from Jo, all kept me informed. Sometimes more informed than I wished to be.
Maybe I would feel entirely different if these inventions were brand new to me. But they aren't. I'd seen and used every one of them before. Their novelty had always been lost on me, perhaps because my only experience them was while inside the Capitol, surrounded by tacky colors and strong rose scents and itchy materials, headed for a death match, my life and the lives of those I cared always at great risk.
Of course, the new item in the bakery did make some things easier. Days like today are a perfect example.
Harvest Day is only one day away and everyone is coming in for their breads and their desserts. Peeta says it was always one of the most popular days, for as long as he can remember. Only difference is, before the war only Peacekeepers and town folks could afford to purchase anything. And generally, most citizens who even did come in, could only purchase a limited amount of items.
Not now. I don't know where everyone in Twelve was coming up with the money or if Peeta's prices are just a drastic drop from that of his mother's, but today, I swear I've seen every citizen in town inside the bakery.
Makes me glad that the portrait of me is hanging in the back, where no one else can see it. As pretty as it may be, as talented as Peeta is, I don't want a giant version of me displayed for all to see.
"Here you are," I politely say, handing two loaves of warm bread to a man who must be new to Twelve, as I've never seen him before. I'm debating on asking if he moved here recently when he passes a bill to me over the top of the pastry display.
"Thank you, hon." He smiles at me, looking at me a little too closely for my liking, as he swiftly walks out the door. His exit is met with the arrival of Val, a boy Peeta and I went to school with, who definitely was more Peeta's crowd than mine.
Val is a regular customer at the bakery, having always genuinely liked the Mellark family. His parents owned a small carpentry shop four spaces down from the bakery, and even with both them dead, he and his two sisters rebuilt the store, taking over their parents' legacy.
Peeta though is more focused on me now than Val's order. "Give me a second," he calls to his old friend, a little less polite than he had been all morning. "Katniss, what's wrong?" He asks urgently, seeing the look in my eyes.
I shake my head and push away the anxiety threatening to close in on me. "Nothing, just..." I hesitate, not even wanting to say it. Peeta's gaze refuses to lessen though and I sigh before finally mumbling, "That guy. He creeped me out. The way he was looking at me so closely..."
Peeta's hand touches my arm for a brief moment before pulling it away, making it obvious that he regrets the small act of even so much as touching me. But his words are still calming and they relax me a little. "He's gone now, Katniss. And if he scares you, I won't let him come back, okay? There's nothing anyone can do to you or me anymore. We're safe."
I nod, knowing the words like the back of my hand at this point, as it's the same mantra we always repeat to each other, every time one of us begins to panic or flail. But still, I open my mouth to refuse his offer. I don't want Peeta to turn away any sort of business. Not with the unpredictability and uncertainty this new world still rests on. We never know if the bakery will sell anything tomorrow or if all sort of income will soon dry up.
And we're the lucky ones, financially speaking, who were rich before the war and allowed—in a generous declaration by President Paylor—to keep the entirety of our money after. I don't have to imagine the anxiety others in the country must be in, knowing the curse of poverty all too well. I wouldn't wish that feeling on anyone.
"I don't want you to turn away people," I say quietly. "Not on my account. You need business to keep this place afloat."
"I have plenty of money, Katniss," he reminds me, a little darker than I expect. "And I'd rather you feel safe than own a popular shop."
His words unexpectedly touch me, unexpectedly cut right down to the depth of my bones, exposing my soft underbelly. I'm about to do something stupid, like touch his hand, when Val makes his presence known again. "Your shop is already the most popular in the district," he points out, not even a little ashamed for having listened to our conversation. "And besides, why don't you just look at the guy's name? Maybe you can look him up, see if he's alright or not."
Peeta gets a glint in his eye. "That's a good idea, Val, thank you." As he moves towards the register to, I can only suppose, look for the man's receipt with his name and signature, he gestures to his school friend. "Katniss can get your order."
I shoot him a glare, only half kidding. I did come to help out, here and there, today but I did not intend to be an actual expected employee. For free, no less.
Instead of saying anything though, I just grab Val his three cinnamon rolls, his two snack cakes, four bagels, white chocolate donut and a loaf with raisins and cranberries.
Val, like Delly Cartwright, was always one of the few people in Twelve who had a few pounds to spare.
Peeta has a type of friend.
"Found it," Peeta now calls, bringing over a slip of paper to where I'm handing Val his three bags of treats. "His name was Rod Catamaran."
Me and Val, for the first time perhaps, exchange a look between us. "That's an odd name for Twelve."
"I've never even heard that name before."
"He may not even be from Twelve, guys," Peeta says.
I roll my eyes. "Because a bombed out district is really a tourist attraction."
"Hey, none of that," Thom calls as he walks through the front door of the bakery, with Kanon Bagley on his heels. "We've rebuilt this place beautifully and negativity is not appreciated here."
"Yeah, Katniss," Peeta chimes in, teasing me. I'm about to kick him in his only real leg, as we're the only two behind the counter and no one else will see, when Kanon speaks up.
"Can I buy a couple of pastries?"
"Of course," Peeta says kindly, walking around me to personally grab the two items Kanon requests.
Kanon is new to Twelve. One of the few new additions this place gained after all that went down. He's a large man in his early twenties, with dark skin and dark hair and eyes to match. But the only times I've ever interacted with him, he's quiet as a mouse, his eyes a little forlorn at all times and he offers more discounts then he should at the candy shop he recently opened next to the bakery.
He's from District Eleven originally and it takes no real critical thinking to realize he had a hard life, even before the war.
I'm far too familiar with the look of scars etched across the eyes. So is Peeta.
That's why, when Kanon looks down at the money in his hand and realizes he doesn't have enough to afford both pastries, Peeta immediately brushes it off. "That's okay, they're on the house," he instantly promises, handing the small bag over to Kanon with a gentle smile.
"No, I don't want to take it without-"
"I made way too much," Peeta insists, lying outright to make it appear Kanon would be doing him a favor. I know he didn't make too much, because we've been flying through everything today and keeping the ovens hot in case more is needed.
Still though, I back up the fib. "He did. We've been wondering all day how we were gonna sell enough stuff so we don't have to feed the leftovers to Haymitch's geese."
Kanon glances between us shyly, before taking the bag from Peeta's hand and slipping the few dollars he does have into his pocket again. "Thank you," he says softly and turns to leave.
Thom pats Kanon on the back as he passes him, before turning to follow. When the other man isn't looking, he turns back to us subtly and mouths, "thank you."
I wanted to tell him not to thank me. I only watched Peeta make this food, I didn't assist by any stretch of the imagination. I didn't own the bakery or do anything with the money or finances. It was not my choice to give things away for free.
But I'm far too focused on the boy in front of me to say any of that. The boy with the bread, the boy who isn't really a boy anymore. The boy who just gave away food for no reward at all, even on the most demanding and strenuous day all year for his business. The boy who just showed Kanon Bagley the same kindness I begged someone-anyone-to show me at eleven-years-old and not one single person did.
Except for him. He did for me all those years ago what he did for Kanon just now, and I suddenly have the most inexplicable, irrepressible urge to kiss Peeta right then and there, in the middle of the bakery.
I don't, however, and it's for once not because I lost my courage. It's because the door swings open again, just as Val exits right behind Kanon and Thom.
It's the same man from earlier. "Hi," Peeta greets, this time not at all sweet. Clearly recognizing the man as the one who made me nervous before. "Can I help you?"
"Yes," the man affirms, his tone brighter than you'd expect given our chilly reception. And our blatant wariness for anyone new. "I forgot to get a pecan butter cake before?"
There is a beat where me and Peeta exchange a look, before I awkwardly move towards the display case and begin to pack up his item. Peeta waits for me to decide to help the man before starting to ring him up.
"That was a nice thing you both just did," the man says as he patiently watches me fold the white waxy paper over his pastry. "For that guy."
"You were watching?" Is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.
"Only for a moment," he explains, his tone still friendly. Either he doesn't know how to read people at all or he's the most even keeled person in Panem.
Because I know I'm being rude, to a man who maybe doesn't even deserve it, I force myself to say one thing conversational. "This is my mom's favorite dessert," I offer, gesturing to his cake.
The man raises his eyebrows in an act that looks almost feigned. "Really?"
I instantly regret trying to be even slightly pleasant. Even his mannerisms seem fake. I'm contemplating if I should say anything else or go hide in the back room with the warm ovens and my portrait, when Peeta presses a button and the register dings.
He's about to say the total when the strange man shakes his head and hands to me directly an unfamiliar bill over the display case. "Have a nice day, you two," he calls, grabbing his cake and swiftly walking out.
It's not until he's gone, not until I have a moment to process the second weird encounter with the odd person, that I even glance down at the crisp bill he handed me.
It's a bill with a larger number on the back than I've ever personally seen before. I knew these kinds of dollars existed—I'm sure I could have gotten plenty after my first games—but I'd never seen one in the flesh.
Peeta sees my reaction. "What is it?" His voice sounds alarmed and he's stepping closer to me, but all I can do is gasp out his name.
"Peeta, look." I hold up the bill and point to the number on the back.
His eyes widen too, taking in the amount with a dizzy smile. Of both relief that nothing's wrong and excitement at the digit.
"Do you think it was a mistake?" I ask suddenly, looking over my shoulder towards the window, wondering if we should track the man down and give him his money back, before he evaporates into thin air.
"No?" Peeta shakes his head, the wheels in his mind turning quicker than mine. His face turns to that of elation, as the large bill takes some pressure off the bakery's sales. "No, he said he saw us give Kanon a break. He was giving us something in return."
I'm about to say something else, I don't even know what, but it all flies out of my head when Peeta suddenly wraps his arms around my waist and swiftly pulls me into his embrace.
My entire body goes into lockdown and hypervigilance at the same time. I can't move an inch but it feels like every nerve in my body is abruptly tingling and on fire.
My sweater lifts up slightly and his bare arms graze my lower back, eliciting a shiver to run involuntarily down my spine as his face buries into my hair.
I wrap my arms around his neck after a beat when I can make myself move again, and I feel him smile against my skin. I'm so glad at that moment he's holding me up, because if he wasn't supporting my weight I'd probably crash to the floor, unable to even feel my legs beneath me.
And, as a rush of heat shoots out from the place where Peeta's lips brush my collarbone, I suddenly feel only gratitude, not irritation, at the strange Rod Catamaran.
//
Four days later.
The world surrounding me is green. Green and brown and fire-bitten and scorched. Every which way I spin, there's embers soaring from that direction too, waiting to lick me with their burning flames, ready to decimate me once and for all.
But through the smoke and haze, I still can see between the trees two blonde braids. I still can see a small figure standing on the other side of the fire. I still can see her shirt that's come untucked in the back, creating a duck tail that I desperately want to fix.
Just as I notice her, she whirls around to face me, her blue eyes big and bright and terrified. "Katniss!" She screams, the same way she did the last day she was alive. "Katniss, help! They're coming!"
I don't know who's coming or what's happening or where we even are, but all I feel is relief somehow. Relief that she's here, that I'm in her presence again, that she's almost within my reach. Instinctively I call out, "Prim!" Just so I can finally get a response to the name I've been shouting into oblivion for almost a year now.
"Katniss, help me!" She cries again and then looks over her shoulder. She's not talking about the fire between us, as it doesn't seem too intent on heading towards her.
I don't know what's coming or who she's afraid of, but my instincts now go into overdrive. My body suddenly snaps into alert and I whip my head around, to see if I can find an opening in the fire closing in on me, if I can find a way to get to the sister I lost what feels like only yesterday, if I can find a way to save her this time.
There's no gap in the fire though. It's crowded around me, front, back and side to side. The more seconds that pass by, the closer the fire folds into my proximity, and I have to brace myself before making a split-second decision.
But it's not really a decision at all. Prim needs me and I cannot fail her. I have to save her this time.
I take a bold step directly into the fire, with every intention of running through it somehow. Of running past the wild embers, scorching myself no doubt, but still making it over to my distressed, frightened little sister. But it doesn't work like I expect.
But really, does anything?
These flames are nothing like the fires I've encountered before. And I've been around more fire in my life than anyone ever should.
No, these flames don't burn me. They don't hurt me or put me through agony or singe me to pieces. They don't melt off my makeshift coat of skin and they don't further decimate it either.
Instead the fire feels like almost nothing. Like something almost itchy, something almost irritating, something almost painful. Something that make me want to squirm and scream and escape all at the same time.
Which is real ironic considering what else it seems these flames do.
They seem to hold me into place. The second I'm in their hold, instead of the horrific pain I thought I'd be in, I'm trapped in a series of almost nothing.
I'm not in excruciating pain physically, but seeing my sister standing ten feet from me, and not being able to move any closer, not being able to protect her from whatever she's terrified of, is worse than any amount of injury this fire could have inflicted.
"Katniss!" Prim screams now, her voice only growing in its frantic nature. "Help! Why won't you come help me?"
I try to scream, try to tell her I want to but I can't move. But it turns out that these flames also paralyze vocal muscles.
"Peeta's dying!" Prim yelps out, looking behind her again, her hands beginning to shake in a way she almost never let them in life. She always tried to keep it together, to remain calm and rational in a crisis.
Her words elicit something entirely new inside of me though. "Peeta?" I yell in confusion, my voice suddenly no longer paralyzed.
"They're killing him! Katniss, please, why won't you come here? We need you!" Prim is close to hysterical now and frankly, so am I.
"I'm trying! I just," I move my hands down my body, trying to push the flames away as they rises up to my chest, trying to just break free from these fiery chains once and for all. "The fire, Prim! I can't get out of the fire."
Prim's voice drops then, loses all source of fear, every ounce of panic. Loses any semblance of emotion. "Katniss, there is no fire," she states blankly, her eyes looking directly at the embers covering my stomach and legs. "There's nothing there."
I just look at her for a moment, completely speechless. Her words are inconceivable, her eyes are haunted now, her facial expression is unrecognizable. Even her voice doesn't sound like hers anymore.
Before I can comprehend what's happening, in the distance a gunshot goes off.
Prim delicately glances over her shoulder now, her blue eyes cold as ice. "He's dead," she informs clinically, before sighing deeply, her tone almost disappointed. "And so am I."
I don't know what happens next or how it occurs, but I fly upwards in my bed with such a start, I give myself whiplash.
I hear a loud screeching noise hanging in the air, a hoarse trepidation that almost makes me feel better. I don't know why but someone else screaming in the middle of the night gives me hope, as sick as that may be.
Only it's not someone else, I realize, as my throat burns raw. I realize with startling clarity that I'm the only making all the noise. I'm the one shaking so tremendously. I'm the one who is sobbing.
"Shhh," a voice whispers against the darkness, and I flail involuntarily at the shock. "Sorry, sorry," Peeta instantly apologizes, his hands gripping my arms with a little too much intensity, trying to still my shaking. "It's okay, Katniss, you were just having a nightmare."
His words do precious little to calm me down though. "She was there," I cry, the image, the feeling, of Prim standing only ten feet from me and not being able to reach her too painful for me to unsee.
"Who was there?" He asks tenderly, his hand coming up to cup my cheek. "Katniss, breathe."
I don't even bother listening to his advise. I haven't exhaled since I was eleven. "Prim was there. She was begging me to save her and then I couldn't, I was trapped but-but," I cut myself off, unable to form coherent words and thoughts any longer.
Peeta gets the gist though. "Come here," he whispers and pulls me into his arms, like he used to on the train, when my nightmares woke us both three times a night. "I'm so sorry, Katniss," he says softly now, and rubs my back in a way that elicits goosebumps. His way of trying to soothe my shaking. "I'm sorry you had to see that."
"You died too," I blurt out then. I don't even know why I feel inclined to tell him.
"What?"
"I was stuck and I couldn't speak and then Prim said you were going to die and I got scared enough that I could talk again and I thought-I thought," I stumble breathlessly, my tears pouring out against his shoulder now.
I feel his lips touch my cheek and I'm too upset to revel in the feeling of blood rushing there. "It was just a nightmare," he promises.
But my sentiment is unfinished. "I thought I could break free, that I could-"
"Katniss," he halts, still holding me in his embrace, rocking me slightly. "It wasn't real. I promise you, it wasn't real."
Those words, the words so often said to him by me, ring a bell that I didn't want to ring. It snaps me back into reality abruptly and without warning, I feel like my chest is going to collapse.
Because this means Prim wasn't really there, that she still is as dead as she was yesterday, that I still watched her explode into pieces all over the bombsite in the Capitol.
I still failed to protect her.
Peeta pulls back slightly then and rests his forehead against mine. "It's okay, Katniss," he says again, trying to calm my trembles by rubbing my arms up and down.
"How are you in my house?" I realize, with an intense sudden clarity. "How are you here? Are you real or am I still-"
He quickly puts me out of my misery. "You gave me a key, remember? A long time ago? We gave each other keys to our houses."
Oh. Right. I forgot all about that when he had his nightmare, didn't I?
Good thing he's an idiot who keeps his door unlocked at night.
He's explaining further before I can think to ask. "I heard you having a nightmare from my house. That's why I rushed over here."
I'm caught between embarrassment and gratitude. "Sorry, I really don't know what brought it on."
"Hey," he quietly reprimands, lifting my chin now to meet eye contact. "Don't apologize. No one understands nightmares like me."
I nod, accepting his words, though still a little uncomfortable with screaming for all the district to hear at two in the morning.
Then again, our entire neighborhood is Haymitch and the two of us, and our mentor was drinking like a fish last night so really, the only person who could have heard me is already sitting directly in my eye line.
To punctuate his words, when I don't respond verbally, he lifts my hand up and brings it to his lips tenderly.
And I don't know what comes over me or why. I don't know if it's because we've been growing closer again lately or if I just haven't felt his arms around me since days ago in the bakery and I miss the feel of it desperately, but I find myself abruptly throwing my body around his before I can talk myself out of it.
He catches me easily, like he anticipated my reaction and sways me for a long moment, until my breathing begins to even itself out.
"Will you stay?" I rasp into his neck, as I feel his hand tangles in my matted locks.
"Always."
#everlark#thg#the hunger games#everlark fic#fanfic#prompt#everlark fanfic#fanfiction#growing back together#userreese#i think thats what you meant when you said to tag you????#gravity ♥️ 🌅 🥖
48 notes
·
View notes
Text
RNM 2x05 - I'll Stand By You
So just a little note from me, the person behind the season 2 detailing. I am trying really really hard to keep emotion out of these posts...which is really really hard for me because I'm an inherently emotional person. I'm a glass case of emotion, ready to shatter at any given moment. (#dramatic) But I want to be true to the intent of this blog and keep my feelings, biases, and, you know, shipping out of this blog.
It was really really hard to do with this episode. Because I straight up ugly cried for like, 45 of the 60 minutes. 😂
So I guess, the point is, I'm proud of myself and sticking to the details here. My regular blog is where I'm doing the emotional flip out thing! 😂
EPISODE SUMMARY:
ACCEPTING REALITY — The discovery of some complications with Max’s (Nathan Dean) pod forces Liz (Jeanine Mason), Michael (Michael Vlamis) and Isobel (Lily Cowles) to confront the possibility that they may not be able to save him. Elsewhere, Maria (Heather Hemmens) and Alex (Tyler Blackburn) make amends. Kimberly McCullough directed the episode written by Alanna Bennett & Jason Gavin (#205). Original airdate 4/13/2020.
DETAILS:
Max/Isobel/Michael reunite at age 11 according to what Michael tells Alex in 1x10. So that would make the opening of this episode set in 2002ish.
Michael tells Max and Isobel, "I remember you. I don't know you."
"After nobody adopted me for a year they just stuck me with the name of that trucker who found us."
"I didn't ask you for anything."
This is like the thesis statement of Michael's whole history with Max in the flashbacks.
"Don't pay more than you collect, kid. Passing credit back and forth is a good way to get stuck with somebody forever."
Rosa's art.
What I can see says: "...what they all told me, but I didn't listen" and "Stand the shelter".
Rosa on her dreams
"I have not had any freaky dreams in weeks. Okay, Max is probably off haunting Isobel now that they're strong enough for their psychic twincest weirdness."
"How long has that been happening?"
"Um, I don't know. It's an old boom box."
"Rosa, have electrical appliances been malfunctioning around you?"
"I really thought it was just a side effect of the handprint."
"If being in the pod introduced a new protein into your system it could have altered your DNA too. You could be developing abilities."
"Liz, look. The handprint is changing. It's smaller."
"It's fading."
"Tell me this is a good thing."
"I don't think so."
Michael and Liz theorizing on why the pod shorted out:
"The pod's got a charge. It's like a battery powering the preservation process. This one's gone dead."
"Did the generator blow the electromagnetic threshold?"
"I think a surge came from the pod itself. But that pod has lasted almost a century. It shouldn't glitch out."
"Okay, well, then, this one did."
"All right, stop. It doesn't matter why the pod is broken. It just is. So how long does Max have?"
"My theory is that being tethered to Rosa through the mark is what kept Max from going brain-dead, and in turn the stasis process is what kept the mark from fading. So he could be gone by tonight."
"Okay, well, we have three more pods. So let's just put him into another pod."
"No. He's just gonna do it again. I haven't told you everything. I didn't want to scare you. I didn't want to be the one that took the hope away."
"Talk now, Rosa. Right now."
"I was seeing Max in my nightmares months before I told you about it, and he was begging me to stop you. He said that he was in a lot of pain in there."
"That's Noah's pod. Noah told us it was broken. It wasn't keeping him in stasis. He could feel time passing. None of us thought of that."
"We've been doing everything we can to make Max stronger. He pulled his own plug."
Note...as far as we know Isobel was the only one who knew about Noah's pod being broken. In 1x12 it was before Liz arrived at the house that he told them about the broken pod, so only Max and Isobel heard that part of the story.
Alex on his training. "NSA intelligence cryptology training".
Monitor screen in the secret lab:
Noah's heart is still too weak to transplant. Kyle says it needs at least eight more weeks
"I wrote a paper for a bioethics class on patients in vegetative states who feel pain. Sometimes it's all they feel."
As a non sciencey person, I was wondering if bioethics class was a real thing. Tonight I saw an interview on the news with a UC Berkeley bioethics professor on COVID. So yes, it's a thing.
Alex on Michael that summer post-Rosa's death:
Starting fights with jocks
Broke into the drugstore
Not going to UNM
Hasn't hung out with Max all summer
Got busted for stealing hubcaps (Kyle's hubcaps, we learn later)
Became a walking bar fight
Was in jail when Alex left to enlist
Michael on Max in 2008:
"It's more than that. And it's less than that. We were friends when we were kids, but now Max reminds me of a bunch of stuff that I'd rather forget. The only thing that we have in common anymore is Isobel."
Max's yearbook had a pencil stuck in the page with Liz and Max's photo in it. (The one we first saw in 1x03).
"Biology Club. Max hated science. He was in that club for four years just to watch your sister chew on the end of her pencil."
Max's mindscape:
First just desert, clouds, and then lightning strikes (destructive energy?)
Liz's antennae -- they disappear from Isobel's hands
Rosa describes it as broken
Crashdown special is Max's favorite "Little Green Man milkshake".
The Crashdown counter is kind of merged with biology lab equipment.
The juke box is there
The Crashdown booths
Jeep
Neon Crashdown sign
One of those claw drop game machines (from the Crashdown) but it's filled with baked good displays.
The yearbook
Later, everything else is gone except the one Crashdown booth, the Jeep, and the neon sign.
The distorted music they follow to find Max is the Cactus Groove song in the music list...just, messed around with. See @angsty-nerd's post here:
"I'm the hothead. You are the hero. It's always been that way."
"You stole the hubcaps off Kyle Valenti's graduation present. Both his parents are cops. Do you want to end up in jail tonight?".
👀 Tonight, specifically.
Michael seemed excited about the job at Foster's Ranch until he found out that Max set it up for him. Max found out about it from his dad (only like the 2nd or 3rd mention of his dad in the series so far).
"When I got back in town I asked Max why you and your brilliant mind hadn't changed the world yet. He said you didn't care about the world enough to bother changing it. He believed you could."
Max and Isobel in the mindscape:
"You're okay. I could feel something was wrong with you. Everything felt…"
"Cold. I know."
"You can't be here. It's finally ending. I can feel it. But I don't know what happens if you're in my head when I die."
"So it's true? You want this?"
"I could feel my connection to the outside world getting stronger, so I snapped. I couldn't take it anymore. I released a surge. You have to let me go, Iz."
"I can't take it anymore."
"Okay."
"I am so sorry."
"I just want to memorize this."
"Okay. Okay. I need you to tell Liz something."
"You can tell her yourself. She and Kyle are prepping for surgery. They're going to use the faulty heart. She just wants to talk to you before you die."
"No. No."
"You won't be suffering. They're just gonna bring you back and then let you go."
"No you have to stop this. You cannot bring me back under any circumstances."
"Max? What is really going on?"
"I am dangerous. Whatever Liz is bringing back is not me. It's just some broken shell."
Maria on her mom's computer
"Her nurse said that for the two weeks before she went missing, when she wasn't trying to escape, she was talking to someone online."
The 21st birthday flashback
Isobel gets Michael to help move Max after getting drunk on tequila. He passed out in front of the tattoo parlor. It's the same tattoo parlor Michael goes to at the end of the episode.
Max's weird drunken statement.
"The thing is, there has to be there. Okay? There's always three. Until the very end. I'll show you...What it means is you should be here…'cause it's all broken without three. So we'll figure it out. You'll find your way back."
👀 Until the very end. Interesting.
On Max becoming a deputy:
"You know he did the whole police academy thing because of you, right? He thinks you're gonna get into the kind of trouble you can't get out of if you don't know someone."
Back in the mindscape:
"I figured it all out. She, there's an energy to suffering, there's an energy to death, and when I heal people, I absorb that energy. So when I resurrected Rosa, I took in ten years of emptiness. So if you resurrect me, you will be bringing back an infection. Don't want… I don't want to come back as a monster. I don't want to hurt anyone that I care about."
"That's what this is about? We've been hurting, Max. We don't work without you."
"You will! You will. You are stronger now than when I died. All of you are. You, Michael, Liz, you will survive this. The three of you. No, you need to stop them, Iz. Now."
"Okay. I love you."
"You too." Isobel disappears.
Max is using pretty similar wording to his drunken rambles in the 21st birthday flashback
We don't see that Max is chained down until this next exchange with Rosa. Isobel didn't see that detail as far as we know. Didn't hear the chains clanking when they stood and hugged. Only after Isobel left.
"I'm sorry this is happening."
"Isobel is lying. She is buying time. You know she'll never let me go. But you can feel the darkness too, right? That's why you don't like being in my head. Because you know it's real."
"I didn't want that to be true, but yes."
"I know my sister and I know your sister and they'll never give up. So you have to be the one to stop this surgery, okay? Or I will destroy everything that we love. You have to stop them to save them. Now go. Please, Rosa. Go."
Isobel explaining to Liz
"When he saved Rosa he absorbed all of that dark energy. He's gonna have to expel it."
"And he's afraid he's gonna kill someone when he does."
"Yeah. So we just need someone stronger than Max to take that hit...if he thinks he needs to protect us he obviously doesn't know how capable we are. Bring him back, Liz. I'll handle the rest."
"I get it now. It's gotta be the three of us."
"He would never pull his plug to end his own suffering. Unless he thought he was saving us from something. And I'm a little sick of his heroic martyr crap."
In case you missed it, Michael did not know that. At the beginning of the hospital sequence Isobel is telling Liz what she learned in Max's mindscape and says that she hasn't been able to get ahold of Michael. Michael figured it out on his own. He finally "got it".
The pacemaker:
Isobel with Max at the end… everything is gone except the Jeep. And Bright Eyes playing (the song he and Liz danced to on their first date back in 2008). And then his eyes close and Bright Eyes fades away.
“First thing I remember is the three of us. We woke up terrified and lost. But together. And then all of the sudden I was alone. I got real good at being alone. I had given up on people entirely. And then you found me again. Hell of hero move. You showed up just in time. When you are a kid who nobody loves, kindness is a currency. Friendship doesn’t means jack. Family just lies, and hurts, and leaves. I’ve only ever known love to be temporary. So yeah, I push people away. Every time someone threatens to care about me I test their love until they have to leave. Connection is conditional. Everybody eventually gives up on the guy who refuses to be rescued. But you were the only one who I couldn’t run off. You never believed me when I tried to be something I wasn’t. So this thing in your chest, it might give your heart a pretty solid kick every once in a while. Consider it payback. It’s my hero move, Max. If you wake up, you consider us even, okay? If you wake up, we can be a family.”
Good visual parallels during Michael's speech. Alex and Kyle drinking together during the "and then you found me again". Maria walking up on "the guy who refuses to be rescued"
Max is in the coma for three weeks. Wakes up at the secret lab (instead of his house, which is where he was previously. I'm guessing it was a planned wake up because he's no longer plugged into all of the IVs and whatnot.
"I begged you to understand."
"Max, it's gonna be fine."
"No… I told you to let me go. I can feel it inside me."
"It's...it's symmetry, okay? It's just energy for energy. We can deal with that. Fight it, Max. This isn't you."
"I don't want to hurt you. I need to get out. I need to get away from you, from everyone."
"I can't let you do that."
Max shoves Isobel and runs. When he shoves her there's a slight ringing like the sound they use when the aliens use their powers. Isobel follows and stops him with her powers.
"I made a promise that if you came back and you weren't Max, and you were actually going to hurt people that I would kill you. I figure, hey, you got to play God. Make life and death decisions all on your own. Well it's my turn now."
MUSIC:
1. Letters To Cleo "Here and Now"
2. Lady Antebellum "Love Don't Live Here"
3. Cactus Groove "Fallin"
4. James Talley "Big Thunder"
8. Ross Copperman "Stars Are On Your Side"
5. Lindsey Ray "Keep You Safe"
6. Tommee Profitt feat. Sam Tinnesz "With you Til The End"
7. Bright Eyes "First Day Of My Life"
The Cactus Groove song is the first song this season that I haven’t been able to find on Spotify… let me know if any of y’all had any luck with it!
32 notes
·
View notes
Text
Open Reflection
March 31,2020
𝔏𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔗𝔬 𝔑𝔦𝔭
___
By Simon P Faison
INTRODUCTION
Dear Nip,
Damn Bro, I can't believe it’s been a year since you were stolen from us. You were a king among kings, a true revolutionary that wished nothing more than to have your people prosper yet your life still was stolen way too soon.
The world has definitely changed in that time since you left, but your message and example of, Hussle & Motivation, has spread far and wide. Not a month goes by where I don’t see someone tagging ”The Marathon Continues” on some community activist work they're doing and The Marathon Flag still flies high overall many hearts.
For as Minister Louis Farrakhan prophesied and a year ago today and is quoted on the picture above.
The work your life produced has gone down in history as something that changes the world.
Your work and efforts in urging gangs to revert back to their origins of:
protecting their environment,
abiding by a code of ethics
bringing money into the community
respecting elders and children
All the things that mainstream media forgets to mention when they talk about gang culture. Yet you live this every day all the until the end, standing on it showing them who to a Community Revolution In Process.
You are the reason why Bloods and Crips have slowed down on murdering one another. You have shifted the narrative by befriending and working with Bloods like Game and Yg and directing your music videos with imagery that depicts red and blue side by side.
On April 5th, 2019, as we celebrated your life and legacy the world realized they had lost a True King and Light in this world when nearly every Los Angeles gang — crips, bloods, rivals from all sides — came together to form a peace treaty.
They expected your death to perpetuate more gang violence, but instead your homecoming was met with peace. To think that something of this magnitude could take place over one man’s death is the greatest evidence as a testament that ’The Marathon Continues.”
Hussle & Motivation
What Follows is a post I begin on August 7,2019 just two days after your Death but did not finish until the day after.
It’s amazing how time flies but as I read this in my memories, I realized that though we got a long way to go, especially with the world as it is right now with the Coronavirus. I still feel like though much has been done in regards to what I was talking about in this post, it is still as relevant to today as it was then, so I have added it to this letter.
Biggie said it best
Your nobody
til
somebody kills you.
And unless you were ”woke” as fuckedor Crippin most y'all never heard a Nipsey Hussle song, muchless heard what he was doing for the black community. But now he is dead, it's Nipsey this Nipsey that.
Man, get off Nipsey’s dick
Everyone outhere posting and saying "The Marathon Continues" but let's keep i a stack, ain’t hardly anyone really living the Marathon within themselves
Nipsey was a true poor righteous teacher in every way, who really went back to the streets even before he made it in music, to teach the youth the truth.
And he ain’t just preach about from on high.
He ain’t just talk the talk, every day he lived it!
Nipsey didn't just talk about the need to create black-owned businesses to put more jobs in the so-called urban communities. He went to the hood, and did it himself (starting with his own), then came back and showed others how to do the same. As he said ina famed tweet
So it really ain't worth anyone talking about ”The Marathon Continues” until we start investing in our own community. We must show the ones who would rather see our people in the slums, that we are not slaves or peasants but that we are Kings and Queens with infinite potential.
We must Strive for Black excellence in and a around our communities. Instead of encouraging the young Kings to hit the block, encouraging them to go to school for knowledge is key or if not that then encourage them to be entrepreneurs , computer engineers, even doctors or lawyers.
Instead of teaching yea daughters how to twerk and get a nigga with money, how about you showing her how to respect her body, her mind, and herself as the Queen she is and neva depend no no man to nothing she kan do for herself, to take cato get out be the Queen she really is.
If we the very people who Nip the urban community, gang members and everyone his life kan do than then and only then we’ll be able to truly say with pride,"The Marathon Continues" because now you are living the Marathon and by doing this we hold true to the pledge we said with pride and grief along with you beautiful Queen Lauren that night we celebrated your life all over the country and in every hood.
Conclusion
Nip there is no good way to end this letter. An though I never met you or even corresponded with you. Your life and your work resonated and motivated me on the path I walk now and to strive for the future I hussle to gain not just for me but for all our people.
So I concluded with the words of Queen Lauren, which still rings as no truer as a statement that anyone can say about what your life and death meant to so many who admired your drive and applauded your achievements, then and forever, may you rest light Dear King.
.
I leave as I came, giving you by best wishes of Peace Profound
7 notes
·
View notes
Text
I posted 1,052 times in 2021
51 posts created (5%)
1001 posts reblogged (95%)
For every post I created, I reblogged 19.6 posts.
I added 674 tags in 2021
#star trek ds9 - 167 posts
#nina's personal log - 109 posts
#marvel - 98 posts
#fandom - 85 posts
#star trek tng - 52 posts
#queer tag - 43 posts
#star trek - 39 posts
#loki - 36 posts
#writing - 23 posts
#star trek voyager - 22 posts
Longest Tag: 140 characters
#'i stalked her instagram and based on where i think her boyfriend is from and & dates he shows up on her story i think she broke quarantine'
(note the quotation marks around it - this was about how i had some critiques of a youtuber but when i tried to find any discussion of problems in her content i just found weird invasive shit like this)
My Top Posts in 2021
#5
what does one wear to a chris fleming show? on one hand i want to wear something fun and tacky but on the other hand if you wear a weird pair of shoes in boston you will be fed to the dropkick murphys
29 notes • Posted 2021-11-12 21:03:00 GMT
#4
this isn't a super cohesive thought - i feel like i need more data points - but i think it's interesting how marvel wrote two family dynamics with a father who played favorites and in both cases the unfavorite child is the villain and the favorite child is/becomes a hero, where in other media that includes a similar family dynamic (notably avatar: the last airbender) the unfavorite child is the one who is/becomes heroic
59 notes • Posted 2021-08-02 23:51:26 GMT
#3
highlights from the chris fleming show on friday night
- he starts complimenting a guy from the audience on looking like a politician's kid ("are you liz warren's golden retriever?") and the guy's like "i have something to say". he says he met chris's parents and had photo evidence to prove it. chris was understandably a bit shocked. some time later, he makes his way to another part of the audience to someone who has their hand up, saying "i hope you don't have anything as shocking to tell me". what does the person say? "i met your grandparents"
- chris: every day i think i'm turning more into my aunt patty
someone from the audience: is she gay?
[audience laughter]
chris: this is how the pandemic has affected everyone's social skills. 'is she gay?'
- "in school they're all like 'be original' 'be creative' but what they actually want is to take all the creative ideas and give it to the hottest person. harry styles? that's a jock in a dress. if you threw a frisbee at him he'd be like *mimes catching a frisbee*"
- "you know how normies have appropriated edgy humor from 2006? like how every gift shop has a pair of socks that says 'i'm totally wet for pizza!'?"
- "people in massachusetts are either the kennedys or polyamorous vegans, there's no in between"
- lots of people started cheering at "polyamorous vegans" and i was hit with the realization that that makes me a kennedy
- he was obsessed with dogs as a kid but he couldn't get one bc his mom was allergic so he started researching other pets and found out that a gerbil was 4.99. he did a whole song about how that's the same price as a box of raspberries - "driscoll's or a gerbil"
- i texted my sister who works at a petco and she said that's probably not true
- "i'm used to getting hate from conservatives. if some guy whose profile pic is him driving an atv through a cvs doesn't like me i can go about my day. but gen z is brutal. they'll be like 'bestie you look dehydrated' and i'm just *lays down on the stage with his arms crossed over his chest like a dead body* that's it. it's over for me"
- "seeing a lot of glasses out here tonight"
+ not from him, but overheard on the street outside the venue: "i don't know much about high culture in the 1800s, that's one of my history weak spots"
all in all 10/10 absolutely recommend seeing chris fleming in boston
113 notes • Posted 2021-11-15 00:42:37 GMT
#2
so i'm doing a rewatch of the mcu in in-universe timeline order and let me tell you, the discourse about captain marvel being military propaganda really feels odd when you watch the first iron man movie right after. like i know all of the mcu is military propaganda to some extent bc military funding and there were the brie larson air force ads but the iron man movie is literally "a journalist who calls tony stark out for being a war profiteer still wants to sleep with him" and "tony's first act as iron man is to mow down a bunch of middle eastern terrorists"
120 notes • Posted 2021-07-19 23:23:24 GMT
#1
ds9 fans are like lizard war criminal (affectionate) and lizard war criminal (derogatory)
951 notes • Posted 2021-06-13 16:07:29 GMT
Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →
1 note
·
View note
Text
Tag Game
Tagged by a Jojo meme: @ohgayassu
Rules: Answer 30 questions. Tag ?? blogs you want to get to know better.
Nickname(s): Fuck sake, where do I start? Tom, Bruce, Jesus, THOT, Ham, Sabu, Saboobie, DarkNerd, Gingerweed Man, Nerd, Dark, Capn, Capn Wayne, etc. etc., so on and so forth. None of these are my birth names btw nor even related to it. I only gave myself the DarkNerd and Capn Wayne related ones.
Gender: Cismale but idrc whatever you call me
Sign: Fish
Height: 5'4"
Current time: 1:20AM
Favourite band(s): MCR, Gorillaz
The edgy bands I usually listen to (mostly while drawing or animating): MCR
Sweeter bands: Gorillaz I guess? Ludo maybe too.
The bands that I’ve been a fan of for so long that I have listen to all their albums at least a billion time: MCR
Also all the bands Ohgayassu listed: I mean Ive heard Artic Monkeys, Mindless Self Imdulgence, Twenty One Pilots, and maybe the Neighborhood? Obv, I love Paramore, Panic! At the Disco, Fall Out Boy, Daft Punk, and Gorillaz.
Favourite solo artist(s): Gorillaz technically
Song stuck in my head: CAUSE IT'S NINE IN THE AFTERNOON
Some In my head rn are: YOUR EYES ARE THE SIZE OF THE MOON
Last movie I saw: Jurassic World: Fallen Kingdom
Last show I watched: uh... the last show I actually sat down and watched was Hinamatsuri, the first anime (and show) I've watched since Samurai Jack Season 5 ended.
When did I create my blog: Oh shit, July 2014, happy 4 year anniversary me
What do I post: Hamtaro, Animal Crossing, and stuff that helps me not want to kill myself usually
Last thing I googled: Before Googling how to see my tumblr's first post, it was "LLC meaning"
Do I have any other blogs: YEP
There's @achhd-fashionproject , where I suffer and upload QRs I made in ACHHD or on the rare occasion, one that someone else made.
@sabu-pigeon-fucker is my Hamtaro blog but Idk if I wanna have a seperate blog for hamtaro or keep it on my main so it's dead for the moment.
Yall should check out @teh-nubcakezorz which is my art blog. I try to upload consistently is what I would say if I were a liar.
I have a Pokeaskblog, @whenever-ribombee but it's also dead atm. I just cant find much motivation for it.
My rarely updated bc personal family issues body positivity blog is @phat-thottie because of course I had to get that url
A secret project blog.
And these last two:
My Semi-NSFW/Gore blog. There's no actual nsfw, minus the gore, but it's content that I feel might make someone uncomfortable goes there. Ask and maybe I'll give it to you.
I have a vent blog also.
Do I get asks: Rarely, but they're almost always wonderful to see.
Why did I choose my URL: the Gingerweed Man is the greatest film character in all history and my lad
Following: uh... 2262 blogs... oh boi
Followed by: 1068 blogs. I just need one more, that's all I ask for now.
Average hours of sleep: Average? They're all outliers.
Lucky number: 69 and 420
Instruments: Accordion, Trumpet, Tuba, I suck at all 3
What am I wearing: Black tank top and navy and white shorts
Dream job: Figure designer/sculptor
Favourite food: Cheesecake Factory Rice Jambalaya
Nationality: Latino
Favourite song: MCR - House of Wolves, MCR - Black Parade, or Lemon Demon - Ultimate Showdown of Ultimate Destiny (of which I still have all the lyrics engraves in my memory)
Last book I read: Hamtaro Handbook
Top 3 fictional universes I wanna join: Uh... let's see...
#3 Pokemon. I can finally have my twin tank tortoise, edgy furry mongoose, adorable sonic ninja cicada, and my swag sweet bee. Counter point: Beedrill is real. So is Houndoom, and it can give me literally unending pain.
#2 Hamtaro. I am given my government assigned hamster with 1 primary personality trait and can fuck off and do whatever while my ham goes on adventures in another dimension made of fucking candy or fights actual Hamster Satan. Alternatively, I am said hamster going on adventures which is still rad.
#1 Animal Crossing. No more money problems, I have a home and can pay my debts off with actual no deadline. Or just not pay them. Plus free fruit. And a toaster with endless supply of toast.
I’ll tag some swaglords:
@peigeom @nukekioh @boxyguy @namonaki-und-friends @lalala-sushi @spiral-phantoms @mafurachan @robo-joe @magentmagent @dawnb1ade @princess-leslie
4 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
novalizinpeace
Nova's floating hell
helluva-hazbin-angel
Isn’t that Hotel of yours all about redemption?
semennmyhair
Porn.
solamuir
Le Fou